Bone of Contention
by Mochi-girl
Summary: During a murder investigation, a man from Brennan's past returns, and spins her relationship with Booth in a new direction. Contains Mature Sexual Content.
1. The Crime Scene

This story is strictly for entertainment purposes. I do not claim these characters as my own and any similarities between fictional characters and real people are purely coincidental. This story contains Mature Sexual Content and children under the age of 18 should not view. Parents need to monitor their children's internet use, not me.

Author's Note: I chose this title long before the episode The Bones on the Blue Line was aired and its use is also coincidental.

* * *

Bone of Contention

* * *

1. The Crime Scene

* * *

"Hey Bones, we got a case… I'll pick you up in thirty minutes." Booth dropped his cell phone into the pocket of his suit coat, nodded his departure to the other law enforcement on site and walked toward his FBI issued energy efficient, carbon neutral Ford Hybrid. _Man, I miss the SUV_ he thought to himself and grimaced as he maneuvered his athletic frame into the cramped car. He started the engine and backed up onto the highway. In his rear view mirror he could see the mangled wreckage of a pick up truck and the markers where human remains were scattered about.

He took a mental inventory, sorting and filing the known from the unknown as he headed toward the interchange leading to the D.C. beltway. He tried to imagine the probable crime scene scenarios. He noted the skid marks from where the truck with Florida license plates had been forced off the road and crashed into an embankment. The vehicle had been completely stripped, the dash disassembled, the seats ripped open and the tires taken off. Shotgun casings had been found nearby. Mushroom pickers had found the wreckage, which had been pushed further into the trees and hidden from the road. It was likely the human remains were of the driver or passenger, but then nothing was obvious with a corpse that had decomposed beyond recognition. He was far from feeling squeamish at the gruesome sight, he'd seen more than his share of dead bodies, first in Kosovo, than Iraq and now in his current position with the FBI. What he did feel under his hard exterior was regret for the lives ruined by these deaths. So he reminded himself, these are people, not things, but human beings.

As he turned onto the highway and merged into traffic his thoughts shifted toward his partner, a brilliant, beautiful and quirky Forensic Anthropologist in her early thirties. They had worked together for several years and had an unusual partnership with a successful track record. From the very beginning he recognized Brennan's insights and expertise could help him solve difficult cases. The relationship they shared was strictly professional but highly intense and he found himself thinking of her often. The thoughtful expression she wore while explaining the technical aspects of physiology or the weird customs of a primitive culture. The way she would furrow her brow while examining and searching an x-ray for anomalies and the look in her eyes when she was amused by his comments. But it was the attempts to hide the hurt, remorse and isolation he knew she experienced and the sight of her bravely facing down danger and fear that squeezed at his heart and filled him with admiration. Bones was unlike any woman he had known and she simultaneously infuriated and enthralled him.

The image in his head changed again and instead of suppressing it, he allowed himself to remember the sight of her wearing a body hugging black dress that accentuated her curves and showed lots of skin. The thought involuntarily squeezed at other parts of him and caused him to groan. "Jesus Christ Booth, get a grip!" He took a deep breath and sighed as he drove toward the Jeffersonian Institute.

* * *

In a turn of the century conservatory, situated within sight of the Washington Memorial, the multi million-dollar archive and museum known as the Jeffersonian Institute was housed. This portion of the privately/publicly funded institution was a state of the art laboratory focusing on the science of forensic anthropology. They specialized in the identification of human remains and the context in which these humans had lived and had died.

Angela Montenegro leaned over the catwalk above the work platform and smiled to herself watching her colleague and best friend's face light up as the FBI agent greeted her. It was obvious to the computer whiz and gifted artist that Brennan and Booth had an interesting chemistry between them. She had to admit, the site of the scientist and the cop dancing around each other and refusing to recognize the sparks that flew between them, was entertaining if not extremely frustrating.

"Ahh, yes.. just another day in the neighborhood." Dr. Camille Saroyan commented as she joined Angela to look over the rail. Cam looked amused.

"Cam, you know Booth better than most and I know Brennan like the back of my hand, what is it with these two?" Angela asked.

"Booth's as honest and straightforward a man as I have ever met. When we were together, we both knew where we stood… friends with benefits as Michelle would say." Cam smiled thinking of the teenager she had become guardian to. "I'd say he feels threatened, not by her ability or intellect, but by how much it would hurt to loose the relationship if it didn't work out."

"Yeah? And Brennan has abandonment issues and an I.Q of 185." Angela looked as exasperated as she sounded. "It's really too bad, love's worth it."

Cam raised her eyebrows at her, "And you'll let them figure it out on their own. It can't be casual between them, involving yourself will only come back to haunt you." She said sternly.

"You're right." Angela sighed. "I'm just a sucker for potential hot sex." She gave her boss a weak smile as they watched Booth follow Bones out of the building.

* * *

Suited up in her field clothes, her auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail, Bones knelt over what was left of the decomposed corpse and gently prodded at the remains with latex gloved hands.

"Female, Caucasian, approximately in her mid to late thirties, there was blunt trauma to the back of her head, and a gunshot to the sternum. She's been dead… maybe a month. It appears animals have scattered the remains."

"You think this is a murder?" Booth asked knowing the answer.

"This wasn't an accident. It appears the woman was run off the road, she was either thrown out, climbed out or pulled out of the cab, bludgeoned with that rock..." she pointed to a stone "... and shot with a large caliber rifle. The evidence is all here. Whoever did this destroyed the truck trying to find something, most likely something worth committing murder over." She knew he had to ask and at the same time it gave her a chance to validate her own findings.

"Let's see if we can get a print off that rock. We'll have the body and truck taken back to the Jeffersonian for I.D. You want anything else?"

"Samples of the surface beneath her. We might be able to find some evidence of what was in the truck by a thorough examination of the pieces, including anything that was tossed out. It might help establish motive."

Booth gave his agents the go ahead to pack up the remnants of the accident. He watched her snap a few more photos with her digital camera and still wondered how she could clearly see, what wasn't there, in a pile of human remains. Even after years of working together, he was still in awe of her and had complete faith in her crime scene prowess.

Walking back to the car, Bones opened the trunk and dropped her camera bag and supply satchel into it. She snapped off her gloves and stuffed them into her pocket and pulled on the tie that held her ponytail back and shook her hair free. She looked up and saw Booth staring at her with his penetrating brown eyes. She blushed as she met his gaze, and as usual, one of them looked away awkwardly and the other followed.

As desirable as she found him, Bones wouldn't go there. She hid her feelings behind a scientific façade and even though she trusted and believed in him, there was an edge of vulnerability that clung to her. She never lacked for male companionship but none of them affected her like Booth did. Certainly, he was handsome, brave, competent and very kind but there was something else there. She tried to be rational about her attraction to him, but in this instance, her genius I.Q. failed her.

Like Cam had theorized with Angela, Booth was afraid of alienating her, losing her as a friend and as a partner. She meant something to him and he recognized that none of his past relationships had ever been this intimate. His relationship with Cam had been about mutual need, his timing was always off when it came to Tessa, and even though they shared the love of their son, Rebecca had ended up rejecting him and being a pain in the ass. The risks he was willing to take would be confined to his FBI work and the hockey rink, but that never stopped him from thinking about her in that black dress.

"So what do you think happened here? Give it your best shot." Booth teased as they drove back to the Jeffersonian.

She rolled her eyes at his choice of words. "A hypothesis without evidence to back it up will never solve a case or convict a murderer. You know that better than I."

They were back on the road, headed toward the Jeffersonian and neither would admit how much they enjoyed the banter between them.

"I'm not asking you to make up some fairy tale, I'm asking you for ideas… how about using some deductive reasoning to explain what we saw. Let's brainstorm, you know, two heads are better than one… Starsky and Hutch, Cagney and Lacey... Rocky and Bullwinkle…"

"I don't know who they are… I'd rather base my findings on irrefutable science not conjecture or the observations of cartoon characters." She said dismissively, but in the next breath she asked, "Booth, I need a favor…"

The hint of desperation in her voice threw him, "Anything Bones… I mean… sure, if I can." He stammered.

"Will you come to my book opening and cocktail party with me? My book publicist says I have to go and fraternize with the publishing company and this business media group. I can't bear the thought of having all these people approaching me, engaging me in superficial conversation… you know…"

"You mean hitting on you. You want me to be your bodyguard? I'll be happy to rough them up for you." Booth chuckled.

"Apparently threatening to break their arms isn't politically correct." Her smile wilted. "I'm told that I come off as being officious, I need to allow others to take the lead. I just don't like the feeling of being on display or that I'm a piece of fruit ready to be picked… I find it demeaning."

"Bones, you need to join the rest of the world. You're a beautiful woman, and men are taught to respond to that."

"That's not what I mean…" She paused a moment as if catching herself. "I mean, thank you."

"Your welcome."

He could be very gentle when he chose to be and this made her feel warm and cared for.

The moment was lost by the jangle of her cell phone. "Brennan" she answered. Her eyes grew wide. "Sully?"


	2. Sully Returns

2. Sully Returns

* * *

Booth dropped Brennan off at the Jeffersonian and returned to his office at FBI Headquarters where he learned the truck involved in the crime scene had been purchased six months ago from a lot in Fort Lauderdale. It was registered to a Harold Gerber and he had his agents tracking down his whereabouts and checking the missing persons database for females between the ages of 30 and 40. It was a solid lead, but he knew Bones and her team would be the ones to find answers, or at very least, lead him to the right questions.

As an afterthought he searched for information on Tim Sullivan, curious if the former FBI agent had requested to be reinstated back into the Bureau. He knew he had no right to meddle in his partner's life but Sully's return was unsettling, and made the cloak of denial he wore, very uncomfortable.

It didn't take much for Booth to talk himself into going back to the Jeffersonian.

* * *

"How're the Squints today?" Booth swiped his security card and meandered up the steps toward the autopsy table.

"Dr. Saroyan has examined the remains and Hodgins is examining the clothing, soil samples and truck parts for trace evidence. Dr. Brennan says it's time to let the Dermestes Maculates go to work." The PhD candidate's manner was smug, his speech monotone, Zach Addy was consistent, if nothing else. "Would you like to watch Agent Booth?"

"Nah, the excitement of flesh eating beetles might be too much. You go ahead and have your fun." He watched Zach cart the remains away as Angela approached him.

"As soon as the skull is clean and the tissue markers are put in place, I'll start a rendering of the victim." She paused a moment, "So Brennan tells me that Sully's back in town."

Booth looked at her warily, not sure if she was setting a trap. "Yeah, he called her on our way back."

"And?" she asked prodding him along.

"...and what?"

"You know, what do you think? I'm just curious about how you feel about his sudden return." Angela asked bluntly.

"If she's happy about it, than I'm happy about it. It's really none of my business." Booth answered defensively.

"That's not exactly true, you… we all work with her, she's my best friend… she's your partner, I'd say it's your business."

"Maybe you should be talking to her." He looked at her uncomfortably and abruptly walked away. "I got a case to solve."

Angela folded her arms across her chest as she watched Booth walk away.

"You shouldn't be so hard on him Ange, he's probably kicking himself right now." Jack Hodgins disapproval was evident as he walked up behind her.

Angela turned and raised her eyebrows at the entomologist "What does your male bonding tell you?"

"He's thinking he should have made his move, now it's too late. The old boyfriend is back."

"What do you mean it's too late? It's never too late, I think if he's really interested in Brennan, this would be the perfect time to show it."

"You know, Booth's a man's man. He's got strong fists and a big gun. He can seriously kick some ass, but what he doesn't have is the self-confidence to survive a broken heart. That whole _it's better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all_ is crap to a guy like Booth." Hodgins narrowed his eyes at Angela, seizing the opportunity to send her an underlying message. "I can't say I blame him."

Angela looked at her ex-fiancée with a bemused expression. "What are we talking about here, Jack?"

"The ways of the heart, Ange, the muscle of love." He turned and walked away from her.

* * *

Brennan sat in front of her computer staring at the report she was preparing. She knew it was irrational to allow her thoughts to distract her from her work, but Tim Sullivan, the FBI agent who'd taken a sabbatical and left on a sailboat with a piece of her heart was back in Washington, DC. He had called asking if they could meet over drinks and dinner. She wasn't sure why, but she wasn't as pleased to hear from him as she thought she should be, in fact, she felt a little annoyed. He'd been gone for almost two years and she hadn't had an email or postcard from him in the last 12 months. To add to her confusion, there was Booth's behavior. He said he was happy for her, but glared at the road and barely spoke to her on the way back to the lab. She should have recognized it as jealousy and been pleased, but instead she didn't understand why she felt responsible for his foul mood.

She saved her document and closed the lid of her laptop. Sitting back in her chair, she looked beyond the glass wall of her office and saw Booth talking with Cam. She wasn't sure when he had returned to the lab and why he hadn't come to her office. She allowed herself a moment of indulgence, a guilty pleasure, observing Booth. He was, she had to admit, an excellent male specimen with a hard body, excellent symmetry and thick head of hair. She knew it was an over abundance of pheromones that made him so sexually appealing, and logically women would respond to that, and she was a woman but when he turned and caught her eye, it sent a jolt through her, and her knee jerk reaction made her look away.

Not wanting to admit why she felt foolish, she looked at her wristwatch and realized she had to go and meet Sully for their date. Grabbing her bag and coat, she left her office and headed toward the building exit. Had she looked behind her, she would have seen a pair of wistful brown eyes following her out of the building.

* * *

On her way to the Founding Fathers, she felt apprehensive about seeing Sully again. Logically she knew a year or two was not that long a period of time but a lot had happened and she wondered how it might have changed either of them. Brennan walked into the lounge and saw Sully sitting alone at the bar with a drink in his hand. His hair had grown long, he looked gaunt and his posture looked tired almost defeated. She stopped a moment to ask herself if she was being rational, before she could analyze her thoughts, he was walking towards her.

"Tempie, wow you look beautiful." He reached out and embraced her kissing her eagerly, and was disappointed when she didn't respond.

She stepped back from him. "I'm sorry Sully, it's been a long time, I haven't heard from you." She said looking at him with curiosity. "Can we just sit a while and talk?"

"Sure, let me buy you a drink." He led her to the bar and called the bartender over. It was obvious to her that he'd been there awhile and she wondered how many drinks he'd already had.

"When did you get back?"

"About two weeks ago, I would have called sooner... I had some business to take care of." Sully's leg bounced up and down nervously.

"How has the last year been?" She asked with an attitude.

"Look Tempie, I'm sorry I hadn't been in touch. I had some things to figure out." He traced his fingers along her arm.

She recoiled at his touch. "I can't just pick up where we left off."

"I understand, but we used to have something between us, and I'd like find it again." His eyes looked haunted and he twitched involuntarily.

Brennan looked at the man in front of her. Had she ever really loved him? If she had, why had she let him sail away without her? She remembered a strong connection between them, she reveled in his attention toward her and how he made her feel desired.

"Do you want to get a table? If you'd rather, we could go back to your place." He asked hopefully.

"A table's fine." She answered quickly.

"Okay then…" Sully replied looking dejected.

Their dinner conversation felt awkward, his stories of the Caribbean seemed boastful and contrived and he barely seemed interested in how she had been. She wanted to feel warmth towards him, but he was nervous and ill at ease and this made her edgy. He kept after her about going to her apartment and was surprised to see a hint of anger when she put him off. This was, she realized, what Angela would call a bad date.

* * *

"Sweetie how was your night?" Angela asked walking into her office the next day. "Was it great?" She looked at Brennan with high expectations and instead Brennan shook her head.

"Not so great, huh? What happened?"

"I don't know Ange, he's changed, he's not what I remembered."

"That happens... I'm sorry. Are you okay about this?"

"I'm confused. I should still care, right? Is there something wrong with me that I don't have these strong emotional ties? I thought I loved him."

"Maybe what you loved, was knowing he loved you and he wasn't afraid to show it."

"Maybe…"

"Look, let's talk more later. Booth's here and I have a face for your Jane Doe."

The women exchanged reassuring looks and headed towards Angela's work area.

* * *

Gathered around her computer terminal, she showed Booth and her colleagues a rendering of the skull. As the image turned, it morphed into the face of a woman.

"There she is, she was a blonde."

"And very high on cocaine when she died. The tox screen came back positive. She was basically wasted." Cam added.

"I've run her through our face recognition program an found a match. I'm fairly certain this is her." Angela's computer screen switched to a mug shot. "Jamie Sheraton, age 32, last known address was in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. She was a cocktail waitress at the Windjammer Bar & Grill."

"I'll get the Miami field office to see what they can find out on her. You get any prints off of the vehicle or rocks?"

It was Hodgins turn to speak. "FBI Forensics couldn't find any prints, they think they were wearing gloves or had wiped the surfaces clean, but I'll keep looking. I'm analyzing the soil particulates found in the truck's interior."

"We got a registered owner of the vehicle. It was bought from a used car lot in Fort Lauderdale six months ago." Booth added.

"This might help, I found it wedged under the seat." He handed him a plastic sleeve with a scrap of paper in it. It had an address on the outskirts of Baltimore.

Booth handed the scrap back to Hodgins. "I'm going to go check it out. You want to come?" He looked at Brennan, his tone all business.

"Yes, I'll meet you in the parking lot." She considered asking why she needed to go but decided she didn't need an answer."

* * *

As they headed toward the interstate, Booth was the first to break the uncomfortable silence that hung between them.

"How's Sully?" He tried to sound casual and was genuinely interested when he found out his sabbatical with the FBI had ended a year and half ago and he had never checked in.

Bones looked as if she were choosing her words carefully. "It's been two years since I last saw him and a year since he contacted me. I'm not sure. He seems different."

"How so? He grow a third eye or something?" Booth joked.

"I felt a real disconnect and he looked different, very unhealthy and nervous." She paused. "Maybe you could see him and share your evaluation. I'm not sure I can be objective." Bones was sincere, her confusion evident.

He was taken aback by her request. "I don't think that falls in my job description. Screening old boyfriends, what am I, your big brother?" He tried to keep his bitterness from showing, caring, but not caring was wearing on him.

"I don't know who to ask, besides Angela, and I trust your judgment."

Booth looked at Bones thoughtfully. "Okay, I'll talk to him, but only because Angela's criteria for normal is jumping over broomsticks in Fiji." He pulled over and parked the car and checked the address of the building.

* * *

The three-story apartment was located in a deserted and dilapidated area five miles south of Baltimore. Tall grass and weeds circled the foundation of the building, the only activity was a cat pouncing on a mouse skittering through the underbrush.

"Stay close and stay behind me." Booth cautioned as he pulled out his weapon.

"This is a perfect situation to point out why this gun is useful and pertinent." Bones' tone was hushed, her revolver held in both hands.

"Yeah, I think it's great you got your Girl Scout shoot up the bad guys patch." Booth found the front door to the building unlocked.

"I don't know what that means…"

She followed him into the rundown building and they made their way down a hall. "Here. This is his apartment."

Booth stood to the right of the door and motioned for Bones to get behind him. He raised his gun in front of him. "Harold Gerber, FBI! We need to speak to you!"

When there was no answer, Booth bumped the door with his foot, the hinge creaked as the unlocked door swung open.

"Booth look…" Bones whispered pointing out a trail of blood.

They cautiously followed it into the living room of the apartment and found Harold Gerber, sitting in an easy chair, with a shotgun blast to his chest.


	3. I'm Ready

3. I'm Ready

* * *

Sully looked down at this outstretched hands as they trembled uncontrollably. His anxiety continued to escalate as he paced the length of his motel room. He willed himself to focus on something else, anything else, but failed. This loss of control had become all too familiar.

He got down on his hands and knees and flattened himself on the floor, reaching under the bed for the briefcase he had stashed. Sitting up with the case between his legs, he popped it open and little packets of white powder sparkled and beckoned to him. Nestled amidst the small pillows was a small glass vial, he closed the lid of the case and twisted the vial open with cold, clammy hands. Pouring a small amount of the contents on the lid of the case, he used the cap to push the powder into a line. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew a tightly rolled dollar bill and bent over the line and snorted it rapidly, throwing his head back and welcoming the numbing and bitter aftertaste in the back of his throat. It took a few minutes, but eventually the anxiety that had encompassed him melted away.

Sully picked himself up and staggered to the bathroom. He leaned over the sink, turned the faucet handle and splashed cold water on his face. Looking up, he studied his reflection in the mirror and felt disgust and loathing for the the pasty white face with the sunken eyes that looked back at him. He turned away from the coke addict in the mirror and left to pack up his belongings.

* * *

"I would estimate he's been dead for approximately three days judging from his appearance and the lack of rigor mortis." Cam surveyed the body carefully.

"Cause of death?" Booth asked

"You think it might have to do with being shot at close range with a single bullet to the heart? The M.O. looks similar to the female victim. See here, he was struck, possibly pistol-whipped and shot in the chest. There's no exit wound, that bullet may tell us something useful."

"Dr. Brennan, look over here." Zach pointed nervously to a piece of plastic on an empty key ring lying on the floor under a table. "It looks like a computer flash drive."

"That seems a little too convenient" Booth lifted the item with a latex glove "Here, bag this." He dropped it into an evidence bag that Zach held out.

The forensics team from the Jeffersonian had arrived just ahead of Booth's team of FBI agents. Harold Gerber's apartment had been transformed into Harold Gerber's crime scene.

"There is a lot of substance abuse paraphernalia." Bones pointed to the table. It was covered with a glass bong, razor blades, matches and a pipe.

"Let's bag it all up." Booth commanded standing back and studying the scene in front of him. "You think we can connect this to Jamie Sheraton's murder?"

"I'd bet my life on it." Cam answered.

"That would be poor judgment on your part." Brennan was barely aware of the look Booth and Cam exchanged between themselves.

* * *

"Will you come with us? Booth seems to think it would be less awkward if you were there. I'd like your opinion of his behavior too." Brennan asked, while Booth stood by silently.

"Sweetie, I don't think it matters what Booth or I think about Sully, I think it's up to you to decide if he's still boyfriend material." Angela answered.

"I already know he's not, but there's something really off about him."

"Okay, if this is the only way I get a date with Booth, then so be it." Angela smirked. "I promise I won't bite. I'll meet you at seven." She left Brennan's office as Booth stood there looking uncomfortable.

"Why are you letting this rattle you so much? Does he mean that much to you?" Booth was tentative, not sure if he had the right to ask.

"I thought he did and now I feel like I never knew him. I almost left the Jeffersonian and you, for him. I feel I am a terrible judge of character." Bones looked disheartened.

Booth processed her words carefully. "We are all vulnerable when we let our guard down, but the greatest experiences can only happen when we do." He wasn't sure whom these words were directed to.

* * *

Booth sat at the bar with Angela to his right and Bones to his left. He liked Angela, she was attractive, a free spirit and honest to a fault. She charmed him with stories of the Squints, laughing over the failed experiments and awkward situations they had found themselves in. He enjoyed her company, but was fully aware of Bones and what she was doing, which was being very quiet.

She sipped her glass of Merlot, lost in thought, half listening to Angela and Booth's discussion. Sully's return had forced her to think about her relationships with men. He was the closest thing to love she had recently experienced, but seeing him again made her realize she didn't know him... she never really knew him… not like she knew Booth. Maybe Angela was right, Sully wasn't afraid of showing love, so why was she?

They had been there for almost an hour and Sully was nowhere to be found. Booth wasn't sure what he was supposed to tell Bones, the truth might damn him as much as a lie. He knew Tim Sullivan was smart, likable and experienced, but he also knew he was a self-absorbed son-of-a-bitch. How he could leave Bones standing on that dock still baffled him.

His sixth sense made him excuse himself and head outside. The air was crisp in the early evening's dim light and he spotted Sully skulking about in the shadows. Not one to practice subtlety, he walked up to him in his most intimidating manner.

"What are you doing, Sully? What's your problem that you can't keep your date with Bones?" He glared at the former FBI agent noting the change in his appearance.

"Look Booth, this isn't any of your business. I was just going to call and let her know I was on my way." Sully lied, sorry he hadn't left when he saw Tempie with Angela and Booth. He had hung around hoping they would leave and he would have a chance to be alone with her.

Booth checked out his jumpy conduct, the weight loss and sunken look in his eyes. "What happened to you? What the hell are you strung out on?"

Sully looked despondent. "I've been sick, caught a bug..."

"Listen to me... You get the hell out of her life or I swear I'll…"

"Booth!"

He turned to see Bones standing there, Angela at her side. "I think I finally get the whole alpha-male thing…" she whispered to Brennan.

"Booth, what are you doing? I don't need your help, not this way."

He looked at her with a hurt expression, not for his feelings but for hers.

"Tempie, I'll call you later." Sully, looking like a caged animal, quickly walked away.

Angela saw and felt the tension between Booth and Bones. The intensity was almost palpable and in a different circumstance she thought it would be awesome to experience, but this was far too heavy for her to take lightly.

"Bones, I'm sorry." They both knew he wasn't apologizing for threatening Sully.

She shook her head in dismissal, not knowing what she should say. "I know."

"Sweetie, let's share a cab." Angela hustled her friend away. She looked over her shoulder at Booth and gave him a _give us some space_ look as she flagged down a cab.

* * *

Brennan watched Angela wave from the cab as she entered her building. She was tired, confused and horrified when she opened her door and turned on the light. Her apartment had been turned upside down. Drawers pulled open, their contents strewn about, her shelves emptied and the furniture turned over. Someone had completely trashed her home and the shock of seeing it destroyed was replaced by fear when she felt someone standing behind her with a gun pointed to the back of her neck.

She tried to control the shot of adrenaline flowing through her, but her reflexes urged her to swing herself around in an attempt to kick and disarm her assailant. Her actions backfired, instead she found herself flattened up against the door, her arm twisted behind her, the gun cocked and pressing into the side of her neck.

"Where is it? Where did he put it?" The voice behind the gun demanded. "Don't fuck around with me, I'll shoot you… I'm not afraid to kill you."

"I don't know what you want... what are you talking about? Who are you?" Brennan tried to recognize the voice behind the gun.

"I want both cases, now!" The voice sounded desperate.

"Who sent you? What cases? I don't know anything about cases!" She tensed her body, clenching her fists, readying herself to fight again when a blow to her head knocked her senseless and she felt herself sliding down toward the floor.

* * *

"Bones? Damn it! Bones?" Booth yelled as he entered her apartment, the back up he called, followed behind him. He scanned the room and surveyed the damage. With his weapon held in front of him, he went to her bedroom and finding the door closed, he gave it a swift kick open with his weapon poised in front of him. She was lying on the floor, bound and with a pillow case over her head.

He searched the room quickly before going to her and pulling the case off of her and lowering the gag that had been stuffed in her mouth.

"Are you hurt?" He asked seeing her disheveled clothing.

"I'm okay." She croaked.

Booth untied the scarves that had been used to bind her wrists and her ankles together. He helped her sit up and took her into his arms.

"It's okay now… it's over… you're safe." He murmured to her reassuringly stroking the hair out of her face. He breathed a sigh of relief and his heart rate started to subside knowing she was all right. Bones felt her fear dissipate and she realized, nothing compared to being held in Seeley Booth's arms.

"He hit me after I tried to disarm him. He was searching for something, two cases... he left only a few minutes before you showed up. I don't understand. What's going on? How did you know to come?" She asked, her words running together.

"I'll explain in a minute. Are you able to stand?" She nodded and he helped her up. She stood on wobbly legs regaining her balance, and he looked at her closely, determining if she was injured.

"I'm sending you to the hospital. You've got a huge bump on your head."

"Booth, I'm okay. Really! Tell me what's going on!" She demanded.

He motioned for the paramedics to come over and they examined her pupils and her head injury and gave her a cold compress, telling her to hold it on her head.

"Booth…"

"Bones," He hesitated for a moment. "Sully called me. He said you were in danger."

"Sully?"

"I don't know what he's got himself into, but he's strung out, I saw it myself tonight."

"I saw it too, but I was afraid to admit it…. What else aren't you telling me?"

"I got a call from Hodgins. He found a print on the vehicle. It was left on the engine block of the truck. The print was Sully's."

* * *

Several hours passed before the police and the team of FBI agents left Bones' apartment. Her home was in shambles and Booth insisted she stay with him. He wanted to make sure she was safe and he wanted her near him.

Once at his place, he told her to take the bedroom and, he'd sleep on the couch. He gave her a reassuring hug and patted her back. He told her that everything would have more clarity in the morning. He'd check on her in the night to make sure her head injury wasn't more serious and, he'd be on the couch if she needed anything.

"Thanks Booth." She mumbled and closed the bedroom door behind her.

Booth lost his shoes and socks and padded into the kitchen. He found the bottle of Irish whiskey he saved for special occasions, grabbed a glass from the cupboard and some ice from the freezer and poured a drink. He swirled the amber liquid around listening to the tinkling of the ice before savoring the smooth burn as it went down.

He knew they had been in much more harrowing situations, even facing down death, but he also felt that something more important was transpiring between them and he had no idea how to deal with it. He walked back into the living room and was startled to see Bones standing there. She was still wearing the same clothes, shoes and serious expression she wore to the restaurant earlier in the evening.

"Bones, what is it?" Booth asked, his voice filled with concern.

"I'm ready." She searched his face for acceptance, looking for the clarity he promised her.

He wasn't sure if he truly understood what she was saying.

She took a step toward him and could feel his body radiating heat. It made her feel slightly tipsy and she knew why, as she reached for his hand and closed the space between them. She leaned forward, their lips met gently, then not so gently and their arms wound around each other. It took Booth everything he had in him to pull away from her. "No, I don't want you to regret this."

Bones looked at him, studying his face. "Please Booth. I won't, I know what I'm doing… I'm ready."


	4. Colliding

Warning, Mature Sexual Content

* * *

4. Colliding**  
**

* * *

Booth slowly stepped towards her, his hands went to her waist and he pulled her against him, gently kissing her cheek, letting his lips trail down her neck and hearing and feeling her shallow breaths. "Tell me to stop or keep going. Tell me now." He whispered in her ear.

"I want…" she stuttered breathlessly. "Keep going..."

He kissed her lightly on the lips once, then twice, and then he slowly and steadily let his lips and tongue explore and taste her. She returned the kiss with fervor and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his.

"You're sure?" He asked her. "I want you to be sure."

"Yes, I'm sure… take me to your bed." Her voice was low and raspy.

He took her hand and led her to his bedroom.

They stood in the middle of the room, facing each other and she slipped her blazer off and let it drop to the floor. She reached for his t-shirt and pulled it up and over his head and when she ran her palms over his bare chest, she was rewarded with a hum of pleasure. Booth slowly unbuttoned her blouse, taking time to kiss her again, and slid the garment off her shoulders. He lowered the zipper on her skirt and it fell, pooling around her feet. The skimpy panties she wore matched her lacy black bra, and he showed his appreciation by kneeling down and kissing her belly as he helped her step out of the skirt.

When she bent over to unbuckle the ankle strap to her shoe, he growled at her, "Leave them on."

Bones smirked at his audacity as she stood in front of him, dressed only in her bra and panties and high-heeled shoes.

He reached behind her and undid the hooks of her bra and let the lacy garment fall away. "Baby…" he murmured, "You're so beautiful." Her nipples tightened as he cupped her breasts in his hands and rubbed his thumbs over the hard buds. He leaned down, kissing and letting his tongue slide over them, taking one hard tip and then the other between his lips and flicking them gently with his tongue. Bones gripped his arms and sighed with pleasure.

She began to feel an ache deep within her and urged him up, her hands went to his jeans, unbuttoning the fly, tugging them down and taking his boxers with them. He kicked his pants aside and snaked his arms around her waist, the sensation of bare skin on bare skin caused them to smolder. He groaned with pleasure as he felt her gentle strokes and her finger nails playing with him.

"Jesus, Bones… your driving me crazy," he clenched his teeth, grabbing her wrists.

He moved her to the edge of his bed and helped her down, standing between her legs, he slipped her panties off as she raised her hips up. "You never cease to amaze me." He was surprised, admiring the smooth bare skin between her legs.

She look unabashed and knew his approval was sincere by the way his body responded.

"Look at me," he commanded in a low voice. "I'm so turned on right now, I feel like a bomb ready to go off."

"Booth, I want you to touch me," she brought her legs up and placed her heels on the bed. Resting herself back on her arms, she watched as his fingers traced her wet outer folds. He made small circles around her until she started to writhe, and then dipped one finger, then two fingers into her, making her beg "Now, I can't wait, now."

He helped her move further up the bed and took his arms under her knees, spreading her legs and lifting her hips slightly and with one perfect movement he entered her.

They both caught their breaths, savoring the sensation of being joined together. The intimacy was ten-fold, they had finally given in to this need.

She forced herself up and against him. "Yes..." she murmured, her hands on his shoulders. "You feel incredible." She felt overwhelmed by his strength, by his size and by the power he exercised over her.

He slowly rocked in and out of her. "This feels too good," he panted, taking pleasure in every inch of her with every move he made.

"More… I want it, please…" she pleaded. Her cries fueled his lust and he willed himself to stay focused, to keep control.

Like two perfectly oiled parts moving in unison, their bodies collided against each other and their nerve endings were tantalized by their movement. As their pace quickened, every muscle tensed and every thrust urged them to climb further to their release.

Their cries of passion became indistinguishable from each other as their climax coursed and burst through them. Like free falling into waves of beautiful agony, they clutched each other, connected in body and mind, gasping and steadying themselves as their hearts raced.

When they were both spent and their shudders had dissipated, Booth untangled himself from her legs and let them down. Resting on his forearms, being careful not to crush her, their lips found each other again and again. He hovered over her, still breathless, covered with a sheen of sweat and feeling light headed.

She finally found her voice "I thought I was going to asphyxiate, this is, I believe one more activity you excel at."

"Jesus Bones, I don't know what to say." He nuzzled the side of her neck. "Thank you doesn't seem like it would cut it."

They both laughed between kisses, feeling and sharing in the euphoria of the moment.

"Booth… I'm not afraid to love you."

His eyes burning with intensity, "I am not afraid to love you back."

He eased himself out and away from her and she whimpered at the loss, but was touched to see him unbuckle the ankle straps of her shoes and take them off. He lay down next to her and threw a sheet over them and Temperance and Seeley fell asleep in each others arms.

* * *

Her stirrings caused him to open and focus one eye on the clock. It was a just past 6:00 am and he yawned and stretched and looked up to see her looking down at him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, you looked so content." Bones sat quietly in his bed, leaning against the headboard and sipping on a glass of orange juice. Her hair was tousled and she wore his t-shirt.

"Is something wrong?" He asked raising himself up into a sitting position.

"No, not at all. After all the time we've spent together, this feels surreal. Are you sure we aren't dreaming, is this a coma?" She offered him a drink.

Booth took a drink, the sweet tart taste made him feel more alert. He set the glass down and with one arm he pulled her close. "It's real."

He coaxed her onto his lap, facing him with her legs straddling his hips and slipped his hands under the shirt she wore. She was warm to the touch and he responded to the feel of her smooth skin.

Bones leaned down and kissed him, letting her tongue and lips dance with his. He pulled his shirt up and off of her and tossed it aside, her breasts with their rigid pink nipples invited him to touch and taste. When he took them into his mouth, slightly sucking and using his tongue around them, her head fell back, her reaction aroused him.

"Bones, get up and on your knees" he urged her. "Face the headboard and hang on."

She followed his instructions and he moved behind her. He pulled her hips back slightly and taking his knee, he nudged at her thighs, spreading her legs apart. He placed his hands over hers as she gripped the top of the headboard, his warm breath whispering into her ear. "Baby, can you feel how hard you've made me?" he teased. He proved it to her as he pressed himself against her ass.

"Booth…" She moaned. "I want you, now."

He embraced her with one arm, his hand reached down between the juncture of her legs and his fingers stroked and probed her. Bones met his touch by pushing herself against him.

As he stroked her slick wet petals between his fingers, she squirmed and whimpered. He used his arm to lift her up from her crouching position and when she settled back down he pushed into her, causing her to catch her breath and then moan. "Find the rhythm" he whispered as he moved in and out of her.

She hung on to the headboard and pushed herself back and forth. He met her with his own thrusts as the bed creaked beneath their weight. He felt her grasping for release and taunted her by denying it, instead, whispering encouragements and using his hot breath to tickle her ear. When he knew she was growing more desperate, he quickened his pace and as she started to come, he pinched and pulled one of her nipples, causing her to shout out and thrash against him. He needed nothing further to send him over the edge and he let himself go, giving into the moment and drowning in his own satisfaction. They eventually collapsed on the bed, their limbs and hearts tangled up in each other.

Booth's intensity drove her wild. Bones was never an inhibited lover but she always kept a semblance of control over her own body, dictating and controlling the outcome. But with Booth, there was no control, he wouldn't allow it and she found something in herself she didn't know existed.

For Booth, he had never had a partner who responded to him the way Bones did. Her sexuality and sensuality was intoxicating. After years of suppressing his need for her, the ability to act on it drove him to want more and he felt as though he would never get enough of her.

They lay together, their bodies satisfied, the walls between them having finally come down.

Bones' cell phone rang and she reached for it, nearly knocking Booth off the bed. "Brennan." She answered. "It's fine, I'm awake, really." The expression on her face was filled with amusement. "I'll be there." She closed her cell phone and found herself back in Booths arms. "That was Angela, she wants us to come in and see what was on that flash drive."

He rolled over and started to kiss her again, when his cell phone rang. He followed the ring to his discarded jeans on the floor. "Booth. Yeah, I'm awake." He silently laughed when he saw Bones reaction. "Right." He snapped his phone shut and sat back down on the bed. "That was Angela, she wants us to come in and see what was on that flash drive."

* * *

"Whatcha got?" Booth asked abruptly, his demeanor unusually professional.

"The data on the flash drive had been erased, but as we all know, we don't let technology "diss" us around here." Angela bragged.

Bones looked blank, "I don't know what that means" she said, surprising no one.

"It means Dr. Brennan, the good guys win this round." Hodgins smirked.

The scientist and the cop had returned to the Jeffersonian, agreeing to pretend nothing had changed between them. They kept a distance between each other as the team gathered around Angela's computer.

"I was able to find these jpeg images." Angela brought up a screen with photos on it. "This one is of our two murder victims." She double clicked on a photo icon and an image of Jamie Sheraton and Harold Gerber sitting together on a sofa opened. Both wore beach clothing and looked relaxed. "Wait until you see this one." Angela warned. She clicked on another image and suddenly a shot of Jamie Sheraton and Tim Sullivan appeared.

"Holy shit..." Zach uttered.

"You can say that again." Hodgins replied.

"Holy shit.." Zach mumbled. They all took turns looking at each other.

"So what's the connection here, people? What's a former FBI agent doing with a couple of druggies?" Cam asked. Her colleagues looked to Brennan for answers.

"What did you and Sully talk about when you met him the other night?" Booth asked an uncomfortable looking Bones.

"He was quite boastful, he told me how successful he had been chartering his sail boat out, but he was ready to come back and try something new."

"Did he mention any names or places or say anything that you felt was unusual?" Booth looked at her concentrating on the details of the case.

"He offered to buy me something. I thought he was being pretentious, but he said he had been saving his money."

"Let's see here, we have one dead female victim, high on cocaine, another dead male victim with drug paraphernalia, pictures of the two of them together and one of the female victim with your former boyfriend, who has suddenly re-appeared, strung out on drugs and wanting to buy your affection?" Stating the obvious was Cam's way of processing the information.

"I'd say the picture in the puzzle is coming together. " Booth uttered.


	5. Looking for Clues

5. Looking for Clues_**  
**_

* * *

Thankfully, the meeting area perched high above the lab at the Jeffersonian was unoccupied. Booth followed Bones down the catwalk toward the coffee pot, each pouring themselves a much needed cup, before sitting down across from each other. They both wanted to protect what had happened between them and since arriving at the lab earlier in the morning, this was the first moment they felt relaxed enough to let their guard down.

"The man in my apartment, what do you think he was looking for? Drugs? Money?" Brennan asked sipping from her cup.

"Both most likely, but we'll find him." Booth said confidently.

"Where do you think Sully is right now?"

"If you had asked me that before last night, I would have said at your apartment waiting for you. Knowing what we know now, he's on the run or hiding. He's in way over his head, whatever he's got himself into, it's snowballed into something much bigger."

Booth hesitated, searching for the right words. "He was a good agent when he was with the Bureau and I'm sorry to see what's happened to him. He may not be the same person you knew, but he called me when you were in danger because he cared."

She was touched by Booth's words. He was, she realized, thinking about her feelings. "I would have gone with him if I had really loved him. You believe that, don't you?"

"I do now." The intense look in his eyes made her painfully and pleasurably uncomfortable.

"Did they find any other evidence at my apartment, besides the matchbook from the Bridge Street Motel?" She forced herself to focus on the case.

"No, but we should pay a visit there, check it…"

"Booth," she interrupted him. "It's important, that what's happened between us, doesn't affect our partnership. We have to work this case, like we work all our cases, and we can't let an incredible and amazing night of sex interfere. We can do this, be professional, work together and still…"

"…love each other." Booth finished her sentence. "I never wanted to cross this line with you before, because you're the best partner and friend I've ever had. I didn't want to screw it up."

His words settled over her and the feelings he stirred up in her were powerful. There had always been loyalty, friendship and trust, but now there was passion and more importantly, optimism.

"It really was good, wasn't it?" She had a smug smile all over her face

"Oh yeah, Baby, it was far better than any fantasy I could have made up."

"I think we can do even better with a little practice."

Booth choked on his coffee and laughed. "Whoa... Is that some sort of challenge?"

"Only in the sense that if one works towards perfecting a skill, practice is a necessary element in achieving..."

"What are you proposing?"

"Maybe," she said provocatively, "I should make a practice schedule." She reached over and stroked the inside of his palm with her finger tips and they both felt a current charge through them.

"Jesus, Bones…" Booth muttered, "Knock it off." He jerked his hand away and adjusted his pants, trying to hide his discomfort.

She smiled, relieved to know he felt what she felt. "What about the others? What should we tell them? Angela's my best friend… my best girl friend, I don't want to lie to her."

"Baby, they've already written a book about us that would rival one of yours. After all the tortuous innuendos we've had to endure, I vote we keep them all guessing. Deal?"

Bones laughed and they clinked coffee cups. "Deal, but if you insist on using a moniker other than Bones, especially one that refers to an infant, it won't take them long to figure it out."

* * *

Victor Ligrano was pissed off. He cursed himself for being so stupid and letting that skirt grift him out of his money. $50K in cash was still $50K, and that kilo of coke, once cut would be worth three times as much. For a thug like Victor, this was the big time. Borrowing the money to finance this deal was a big risk, and now they wanted to be paid back plus they wanted a cut of the stash. He was over the thirty days they gave him he didn't have squat. Time had run out on him.

He had another problem on his hands. Gerber and his girlfriend, Jamie, were dead and he wasn't going to go down for two murders he didn't commit. He knew that Jamie had stepped out on Gerber, with their mule, the floppy haired dude with the sailboat. But even dealing with a cheating heart like Jamie's, he had a hard time believing Gerber could have killed her, the guy was a con and a thief and he didn't think he was crazy enough to kill her, and if he didn't do it, it must have been Sully.

He'd finally figured out where he was hiding out, and was ticked off, when he had missed him by no more than a day. The asshole had left a business card on the table with an address written on the back. He wasn't sure who this broad was, but he guessed she might be helping him out. Breaking into her apartment was risky, he hadn't counted on the cops, much less the Feds showing up. Having searched the place thoroughly and coming up with nothing, Victor was convinced that Sully had the stash of drugs and money.

* * *

The Bridge Street Motel, in Prince George County, just east of D.C. had seen much better days, and so had the manager, a thin, unkept man in his early forties. Booth and Bones approached him in the motel office, he was eating out of a box of donuts and looking at a girlie magazine.

"You need a room?" he asked flipping his magazine over.

Booth tried not to look amused as he flashed his badge at him. "Just want to ask you a few questions. What's your name?"

"Tom, Tom Hascall." The motel manager looked intimidated. "What's this about?"

"Have you ever seen these people?" Bones slid the pictures Angela had recovered from the flash drive, across the counter.

"Yeah, they rented the kitchen unit." He pointed to the picture of Jamie Sheraton and Sully. He clicked on an icon on his computer and a screen came up. Scrolling through it, he paused. "Registered under Jamie Sullivan, six weeks and two days ago. I remember her because she paid me upfront, in cash, for two months. She was here for about a week, maybe two and then left her boyfriend behind."

"You notice anything unusual about them?" Booth asked. "Did they have visitors?"

"I mind my own business. As long as there are no complaints, I have no reason to meddle. They do something wrong?"

Booth looked at him suspiciously. "We're investigating a murder." He felt his gut taking notes on this guy.

"May we see their room?" Bones asked politely.

"Well, they have the place through the middle of next week." He looked at Booth's hard stare and grabbed a key from under the counter. "Since you asked so nice…" he said walking to the door, "let me give you a tour."

Booth and Bones entered the motel room and judging from the way it looked, it was obvious Sully hadn't been there in a while. The few empty food cartons on the table were dried out and a pile of empty beer bottles littered the floor next to the trash.

"I'm calling in the FBI Forensics team, see if they can find anything useful." Booth surveyed the mess.

"I'd like Zach and Hodgins to gather evidence samples first." She had already started a call to the Jeffersonian.

When she had hung up, Booth looked at her pointedly. "Look Bones, I don't want to pry into parts of your life that aren't my business, but you knew Sully in a way that might help us find him."

"What is it you want to know?" Bones asked, feeling slightly defensive.

"Is there anyplace that has significance to him? Someplace you think he might go?"

Bones looked thoughtful. "One weekend, he took me to a cabin at Deep Creek Lake, he told me it had belonged to his grandparents and he was considering selling it to finance the sailboat, I talked him out of it. The lake was quiet, beautiful… romantic. He told me he loved me." Her tone was matter of fact, but at this moment, she had a hard time meeting his eyes.

Booth felt a twinge of jealously and crafted his reply carefully. "Like I said, he's not the same man you knew. He's caught up in murder, drugs, using… he must be feeling desperate. You think you could find it on the map for me?"

"Yes, but I want to go with you."

"Bones, I really think it would be…"

"Remember what we talked about? About not letting us get in the way of our work?"

He looked trapped between what he knew and what he wanted, "Fair enough, but you have to agree to let me handle this, to do what I say."

Bones shrugged. "When has that ever been a problem?"

* * *

"Angela, do you think there has been an altercation between Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth?" Zach asked.

Angela looked surprised. Typically Zach was not one to be aware of, much less comment on, human interaction. "Just what are you referring to?"

"I noticed a deliberate effort on both their parts to be distant toward each other." Sometimes his voice drifted off with his thoughts, but he quickly recovered. "Like Dr. Brennan, I am trying to improve on my observational skills and develop a means to interpret what I see using my own set of deductive reasoning tools." He said earnestly.

Angela smirked. "In other words, intuition."

Zach visibly cringed but did his best to hide it. "If you must."

"There may be hope for you after all, young Dr. Einstein." She said as they joined Hodgins and Cam at the autopsy table, where Harold Gerber's body was laid out. Cam had cut into his chest, cracked the ribs open and was extracting his heart.

"So, Angela, how was your double date with Booth? Was it kind of weird to be out with Dr. B and the former FBI agent turned drug user and dealer who may be involved in the murder investigation we are conducting." Hodgins was an expert at sarcasm.

"You went on a date with Booth?" Cam asked looking slightly taken aback.

"No, Booth and I were more like chaperones for Brennan and Sully. She was really freaked out about seeing him, and after spending two minutes in his presence, I understand why. It was creepy how much he'd changed." Angela looked a little freaked out herself.

"After hearing about Dr. Brennan's apartment being tossed and her assault, I'd say Sully still has feelings for her, otherwise why would he call Booth?" Cam added.

"You think Dr. B still has feelings for Sully?" Hodgins asked Angela.

"After last night I think Brennan's sworn off men entirely. Booth was trying to protect her…"

"...without being asked to…" Cam finished,

"…and Dr. B, after seeing her ex is totally strung out, resents Booth even more for his inability…" Hodgins picked up.

"…to communicate honestly about his feelings for her." Angela interjected.

Cam laughed to herself, Booth would hate knowing the Squints were picking apart his life. "Listen up, let's work the case and keep the personal component of their lives..."

…saved for drinks after work at the bar." Zach chimed in.

* * *

Sully had made it to the cabin on Deep Creek Lake, a place he'd been coming to since he was a kid. It was the only piece of his past that he had hung on to. He'd sold his condo to finance the sailboat and now the sailboat was gone, foreclosed on because he quit paying his loan in lieu of getting high.

He remembered spending a long weekend here with Tempie, they sat on the dock and talked about nothing and everything, and when the sun went down, he had made love to her under the stars. When he thought about it, he felt so much regret. He had left her and now she didn't love him anymore. When he left the restaurant the night before, he went to her apartment, hanging out in his car, hoping she'd come home alone. He recognized Ligrano's truck and called Booth. Not only had he become a loser drug addict, he'd also become a coward.

As his cravings kicked in, he took a drink from the bottle of Vodka he clutched, hoping the alcohol would mask the panic that was settling in around him. He felt the loss of control taking over and knew this was a battle he was losing. The events of the last year popped up in his head and meeting Harold and seeing Jamie for the first time came to the forefront. Then there was the drugs and the money and that first line of coke that turned into an obsessive need for more. Doing business with Victor Ligrano, the creep. Finding out that Jamie had run off and turned up dead. Missing fifty thousand dollars. No one to trust, no one to go to, and no where to go with a kilo of cocaine in his car trunk. He was screwed.

His training as an FBI agent told him that they were looking for him, and the paranoia associated with being hunted down was making him react impulsively. Sully searched the cabin, looking for pen and paper and when he found it, he went out on the deck and started writing. He didn't have a lot of time, he knew Booth would figure out where he was. He tore the pieces of paper off the pad and stuffed them into his pocket and walked out to the dock. The lake was calm and peaceful, this was a good place, a place where he had been someone decent and smart. He closed his eyes and tried to remember what that felt like, but it was lost, gone.

His soul was empty of hope and filled with pain. Sully pulled his gun out of the ankle holster he wore, put the barrel to his head and pulled the trigger.


	6. The Cabin

Warning, Mature Sexual Content

* * *

6. The Cabin_**  
**_

* * *

The road wound its way toward Deep Creek Lake, the sun sat low in the sky casting long shadows through the trees in front of them. It was late in the day, but Booth and Bones agreed, the two-hour drive was necessary, their prime suspect was on the run and his cabin at the lake, would be the most likely place to find him.

Driving east on I-68, Booth thought aloud, throwing out ideas while Bones questioned their validity. She made him substantiate his statements and he forced her to look beyond the simple facts. She still relied on her methodical and logical way of thinking and he still dissected information using his gut instincts. Each knew, between them they would discover who was responsible for the double homicides. This was not about past or present relationships, it was about doing their job and bringing a killer to justice.

"Hodgins found particulates from Sully's motel room that were the exact match to the samples taken from each of the murder victims shoes, placing all three of them together, in Florida." Bones told him after ending her call.

"FBI forensics determined the bullets used to kill Jamie and Harold came from two separate weapons." Booth added.

"We know Jamie was using by her tox screen, as was Harold judging from the paraphernalia at his apartment and Sully, by his behavior and proximity. Those pictures from the flash drive and the info from the desk clerk at the motel, what do they tell us?" Booth asked, challenging Bones to theorize.

"That Jamie was involved with both Harold and Sully. You think this was a crime of passion?" Bones asked doubtfully.

"Not exactly, but you can break it down to people making foolish choices, double crossing each other and third party rip-offs. All fueled by their addiction to drugs and desperation for money to fund it."

"How could Sully have been involved in this? He was an FBI agent and intelligent, he knew what he was doing was wrong."

"Bones, he was a good agent, but intelligent? I knew he was either a dumb-ass or an asshole when he took off on that boat without you."

"Somehow, I feel that was a compliment." She reached over and rested her hand on his thigh.

He felt a current run through him. "How about we go someplace after this case, alone." He asked tentatively.

She squeezed his thigh provocatively.

"Jesus Bones, knock it off." Booth muttered as Bones laughed to herself.

It would be dusk soon and they grew anxious to find the cabin and to talk to Sully. Booth thought he would open up to Bones, and he might even confess to the murders of Jamie Sheraton and Harold Gerber. As they pulled up to the cabin, neither expected to be greeted by the flashing red lights of the Sheriff's Department truck and the white cargo van belonging to the County Medical Examiner. A confession or finding answers from Sully evaporated when they learned he had taken his own life.

"We got a call, a neighbor, walking his dogs, heard a gun shot. When my Deputy and I got here, we found him on the dock, mortally injured by an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Agent Booth, what's your interest in this?" Sheriff Miller asked. "Everyone around this lake knew the Sullivan's. When they passed on, I heard their grandson was taking it over and he was with the FBI, are you here because you knew him? Or is there another reason?"

"Yeah, we both knew him and we wanted to talk with him about a case we're working on." Booth answered, he could see Bones talking to the M.E.

Sheriff Miller rocked back on his heels. "A case that involved a suitcase filled with what looks to be cocaine? "

"We're investigating a double homicide, in all probability the motive being drugs. I'm calling out a team to investigate, I hope we can expect your full cooperation."

"Sure, once I popped that trunk open and saw what was in that suitcase, I'm thinking this here situation is going to be turned over to you Feds anyway." The Sheriff answered.

"You find a second case, suitcase or briefcase, with or without contents?"

Sheriff Miller shook his head. "Nope, there's not much here, in fact, judging from the lack of personal belongings, I'd say he wasn't planning on spending much time here."

Booth acknowledged the Sheriff with a handshake and walked over to Sully's rental vehicle, where Bones stood lost in thought.

"The M.E.'s findings are accurate, this is pretty straight forward, I see no evidence of foul play. He discharged his weapon at point blank range to his temple and died instantly." Bones spoke without emotion. "He left a note, they found it in his pants pocket" she held up a sheet protector containing two pieces of paper, handed it to him and walked back toward their car.

Booth watched her walk away, Sully's suicide bothered him more than he would like to admit, and he knew it must be even more difficult for Bones. He turned his attention back to the note, seeing it had been quickly composed without much thought, and crumpled from being stuff in his pocket.

_I'm got lost. Somewhere along the way I realized I'll never find my  
way back. I've become a stranger even to myself. I'm too weak to  
live with the consequences of my mistakes. The people who killed Jamie  
and Harold, they want me dead too so I'll save them the trouble. I'm  
sorry, but this time I won't screw up._

Sully's note had spelled it out, he had become someone he hated and he could no longer live with himself. They came to the lake cabin to find answers, but instead, found another missing puzzle piece and a former lover and colleague dead by his own hands.

Booth walked back to the car, Bones was slumped against it, her arms crossed, holding herself. She straightened up when she saw him approaching and brushed the tears off of her cheeks with the back of her hand. He didn't stop to think about it, he knew it was the right thing to do as he enveloped her in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder.

"This is not your fault." He tried to comfort her as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Let's go, it's been a long day. I'll get us a couple of rooms, we'll both feel better in the morning." He held onto her, not willing to let her go.

Bones finally pulled away and nodded her head, she did not question his sincerity and saw the truth in his eyes, the same truth she had buried countless times. She knew, one day she would have to admit, either by her own volition or by some outside force, her feelings for her partner and his feelings for her and she knew, that day had come.

After years of working together, he knew their relationship meant accepting the baggage they carried around with them, and of overcoming the obstacles of life that would try to trip them up. But more importantly, it meant not being afraid to let yourself love someone until your last breath and understanding, when you worked with an FBI agent, that last breath might come today.

Driving back toward the main highway, they stopped at the local bar and without much enthusiasm ordered more beer than food.

"He didn't kill Jamie or Harold. The caliber of his gun doesn't match the rounds of ammunition, and I don't think he had any reason to lie in his note." Booth rolled his beer between his hands.

"I don't think it's possible to commit murder, if you're in that much pain. I wished I tried to help him." She finished her beer and pushed her uneaten plate of food away. "Booth, can we go back to the motel now?"

"All right." He left some cash on the bar and they walked out into in the night.

The motel was a short drive away and Booth acquired two connecting rooms for them. He deposited Bones in one, thinking she needed some time to herself, once again reassuring her that she'd feel better in the morning. He took the other room and headed straight for the shower. He stood under the hot water, letting it beat down on him, when it started to run cold, he got out and slung a towel around his hips and used one to dry his hair. He needed a shave, but what he really needed was his partner in his arms and in his bed.

Bones felt guilty, thinking about herself and Booth, seemed selfish and inappropriate. The thought of compartmentalizing her love for Booth seemed impossible. She should be thinking about the case and Sully's suicide, but instead she found herself knocking on the door between their rooms, waiting for him to answer, and stepping into his arms.

His body was still warm and slightly damp from his shower and as she embraced him, she inhaled his distinctive male scent and found it to be quite erotic. He kissed her tenderly, unlike the frenetic lovemaking they had previously experienced with each other, his touch was gentle and nurturing.

"Just forget everything, be in the moment, it's just us right now" he whispered to her. She let him take her away and let herself get lost in him.

He guided her to the bed and undressed her slowly and with care, taking his time between the pieces of clothing he removed, kissing and touching each body part he uncovered. When the last article came off, he placed them both under the covers, facing each other, their bodies melded together. Booth paced himself as he made love to her, treasuring the minutes, feeling her respond to his every touch and taste. He rolled her over on top of him, arranging her knees on either side of his hips, seeing to it that their bodies fit together perfectly. As their arousal heightened, he placed his hands under her, helping her move in and out of him while at the same time driving himself to meet their every stroke. He grit his teeth, clinging to his control, while urging her to lose hers, and when she finally tipped over the edge, he joined her, falling, rolling and tumbling through the sensations with abandon.

"Sleep now" he whispered to her after the fire between them died down. "Don't think, don't reason... it's just us... tonight."

It was, she thought, the sweetest bedtime story ever.

* * *

The aroma of hot coffee wafted through the room, Booth had arisen early, and in an attempt to shake the morning cobwebs out of his mind, gone in search of caffeine. He had used the adjoining room to shower and shave, and set up his laptop computer on the desk, connecting to the internet to check his email.

Engrossed in a particularly long bulletin, he didn't notice Bones standing in the doorway between their rooms. She had the bed sheet wrapped around her like a strapless gown, her hair billowed around her shoulders and her lips were slightly swollen from the night before. She soaked in the site of Booth, dressed in his blue jeans and wearing a t-shirt that accentuated the muscular body that knew no limits in giving her pleasure. The thought actually made her blush and she felt slightly silly and even intimidated, that anyone, Booth to be specific, could make her feel this way.

He looked up and a smile spread across his face as his eyes settled on his partner. He thought she looked especially sexy, having bedded her the night before and knowing he had caused her to experience what he experienced, another night of mind-blowing sex.

"Coffee?" he raised a cup to her. "Whole milk and a shot of hazelnut, right?" he asked.

Bones nodded, and wondered how this man, who could manage to take her out of her own head, could look so... cute.

She shuffled over, taking her makeshift gown with her and sat down on the edge of the bed accepting the coffee.

Booth leaned over and kissed her chastely. He smiled at her and she smiled back, they both shared a moment of understanding before they broke out in laughter.

Bones felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders."I'm going to go shower and get dressed. Then, we should talk... about the case."

His sunny disposition clouded over and he nodded. "We're back to the beginning. Sully, in his own way answered my questions."

* * *

Bones carried her overnight bag out to the car. Setting it down, she fumbled for the electronic button on the key ring to unlock the door and dropped it on the ground. It fell just under the car, forcing her to bend over and to retrieve it. When she went to stand, she stopped herself abruptly, and shielded herself behind the car. Coming out of one of the motel rooms was Victor Ligrano, the man who had ransacked her apartment and tied her up.


	7. Following Victor Ligrano

Warning, Contains Mature Sexual Content

* * *

7. Following Victor Ligrano

* * *

"He's headed west on I-70, don't loose the son of a bitch, I want to know where he goes and who he meets." Booth barked, one hand on the wheel, the other hand holding his cell phone to his ear.

"The motel clerk said he checked in yesterday afternoon. He had to be following Sully, but by the time he got to the cabin, the Sheriff had already found him and the kilo of cocaine. Jamie and Harold showed no sign of struggle, no defensive wounds, they were both knocked unconscious and shot at close range, if he was the killer, I should be dead too."

Booth nodded, looking grim. "We need to find out who this Joker is, he may lead us to the murderer."

After Bones had spotted the man who ransacked her apartment at the motel, it only took Booth seconds to act. They threw their belongings in the back seat of the car and sped out of the parking lot in pursuit.

His cell phone rang again. "Yeah... Thanks, don't let him out of your sight, 24 hour surveillance, you got that?" Bones could clearly see the gears turning in Booth's head.

"His name is Victor Ligrano, according to his file he's small time, check fraud, illegal gambling and selling off car parts from stolen vehicles."

"He must feel overwhelmed and alarmed at the situation he is in. Three people are dead, this isn't about car parts."

"Maybe. He's lost out on the drugs, but there's still the money. He's looking for it and acting desperate. If he isn't contacted or he doesn't make a move, we'll pay him a visit." Booth knew the only charges they could pin on him was breaking and entering and assault, neither of which would lead to the answers they were looking for. "In the meantime, I have to go back to the Hoover Building and file a report."

"Yes, of course. I also have work to do at the Jeffersonian, and my apartment still needs to be put back together."

He looked at her pensively. "Bones, I… uh, I feel like I need to say something… you know, about us, about what's happened between us. I'm happy about it, I mean really happy, but I need to know you are too."

"I am, and I will be even happier when we can be together without this case dictating our priorities."

"I'm sorry about Sully. I know he meant something to you and it is a great tragedy that he took his own life."

She studied him, looking for a hint of an ulterior motive and realized he rarely played her in this manner. "It hurts, knowing the pain he dealt with, made him feel he had nothing to live for and drove him to take his own life. When I saw him, it was if the man I knew was already gone. I feel a great deal of regret knowing he is dead, and although I know it's not logical, I also feel a great deal of guilt for not caring more about him." Her confession caused her eyes to puddle with emotion.

Booth took her hand in his, and like countless times before, he held it in friendship and support. "You didn't drive him to kill himself, he made his own choices long before he came back. We all feel guilt when we can't return someones affection, but if he truly loved you, he would never have left you."

"Your version of the truth doesn't always make me feel better, but your capacity for trying, does." She said appreciatively.

"Bones, there's one more thing... I've been thinking about. If the Bureau or the Jeffersonian find out that we're... you know... involved they may try to split us up."

She nodded in agreement. "You're absolutely right. We need to remember to be discreet and professional." Her tone was crisp and matter of fact.

* * *

Brennan returned to the Jeffersonian to deal with the stacks of paperwork on her desk and an in box of unanswered emails. In addition, she took time to go over the evidence reports on the two murder victims, searching for anomalies and looking for any clues that might help their investigation. Cam and Angela eventually coaxed her into going with them for an early dinner, the topic of conversation revolved around Sully's shocking suicide, and comprehending how he had become involved in drugs and murder.

Driving back to her apartment, she knew she was being followed, and once parked in front of her house, with gun in hand she confronted the lone male in the car, only to discover he was an FBI agent, sent by Booth to watch over her. Next began the arduous task of cleaning up her apartment and after salvaging items acquired on her travels and sweeping aside broken shards of glass she finally allowed herself to sit down and exchange a few text messages with Booth. A telephone call seemed too intimate and she wanted to prove to herself that she could compartmentalize this part of her life. She chastised herself for obsessively thinking about him, but eventually gave in to it, re-enacting some of the more enjoyable moments in her mind, before falling asleep.

It had been close to forty-eight hours since he had any face time with his agents or superiors and Booth knew, his head had to come out of the clouds, and he had better get his act together unless he wanted it served on a platter. He had returned to his office at the Hoover building and worked into the early evening studying the FBI forensics reports, the dossier on Victor Ligrano and his known accomplices, and finishing his own progress report on the case.

He checked in with the surveillance team, where he learned Ligrano was back in the neighborhood of the Bridge Street Motel, apparently laying low in an adjacent building. As directed the agent, who he had assigned to follow Brennan called him and when he learned she had pulled her gun on him, he had mixed feelings, one of which was amusement. On his way home, he stopped to meet with a member of the Bureau's drug task force and to share information on Tim Sullivan's suicide. He learned there had been doubts about Sully's competency. After his partner had been killed and he had barely passed the subsequent psych review. After a beer, he went home, and found that text messaging with Bones was a poor substitute for a conversation, but he knew they needed to keep some distance between them, at least for one night.

* * *

"Brennan" She answered.

"I just pulled into the parking lot outside the south entryway. My morning briefings are done and I thought I'd check in with you and the squints before heading out to see what Ligrano is doing."

Bones felt the synapses in her brain sending messages to various parts of her body upon hearing his voice. "You need me to go with you?"

"Yes and no, he hasn't made a move, I think we should bide our time." He hesitated for a moment, "Listen Bones, I'm having a hard time not thinking about you... about us" he admitted.

"We have to be professionals. We can't succumb to primal base urges, it's what distinguishes us from other species, the ability to reason, to make choices and to analyze." She was unwavering.

"If you say so." He tried not to sound too grumpy.

There was a pause, followed by an urgent tone in her voice. "There is something I want you to see, meet me inside?"

"All right." He answered her feeling slightly confused when she abruptly hung up on him.

He used his key card on the secured entryway and expected to see Bones walking down the corridor, instead he was surprised to see her head pop out of a doorway.

"Booth, over here! Now!" She demanded whispering and beckoning to him.

When he came closer, she tugged on his arm pulling him into a storage closet. She twirled around and with her back to the door, she deftly turned the latch, essentially locking out the rest of the Jeffersonian.

His eyes lit up with laughter as she behaved like a naughty child. She put her finger to her lips "Sshhhh! We have to be quiet!" she whispered reaching out for his hand. When he extended it, she yanked him towards her and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him into a kiss and forcing herself against his body. He responded to her immediately and holding her close, he kissed her back until she was breathless and gasping for air.

"Booth" she stuttered. "I can't wait. I… I need you…" Her hands worked quickly, unbuckling, unzipping and dragging his pants and boxers down, releasing him from the confines of his trousers, stroking, fingering and pulling until he groaned with desire.

Leaning over her, he hiked her skirt up and lifted one leg, his arm under her knee, his hand braced against the door. With his other hand, he reached down to pull the crotch of her panties aside and was startled to find only her own smooth bare skin, wet and ready.

"You really are wicked" he muttered, running his fingers over her.

"You taught me, you have to be bad to be good" Her voice was thick with desire.

He continued his exploration of her and knew he found the spot he was searching for, when he lightly rolled it with his finger tip like a small marble and her body pulsated in response. When she could take no more, she forced him to let her leg down and bunched her skirt up around her waist. Intuitively and with one quick movement he lifted her up. "Wrap your legs around me!" he hissed and she complied. He bent his knees slightly, pinned her against the door and eased into her. She balanced herself by leaning back and gripping his shoulders.

"Okay, baby, hold on!" he ordered.

"Booth!" she panted when he tipped her body into his, the contact caused them both to erupt, every thrust extracting the pleasure out of them and leaving their bodies heaving. A minute later, they both fought to breathe normally.

"Bones, you're killing me!" he groaned. "I'm not sure I can walk out of here, I may have to crawl."

"Your quadriceps are very impressive, you have excellent stamina. It's quite an asset!" She mumbled.

He silenced her with a series of gentle kisses and slowly let her down. When her legs buckled under her, he held her up and she thanked him laughing giddily.

"Here, use this." He handed her his pocket handkerchief which she gratefully accepted.

He pulled his pants up and tucked his shirt back in, zipping and re-buckling himself together.

"Booth, you leave first. I'll follow you out in a couple of minutes."

He kissed her on the forehead and hugged her to him. "I think you're absolutely nuts," he chuckled "but I mean that in a good way."

He traded places with her and slowly opened the door, peeking out and looking both ways, praying he wouldn't run into an inquiring squint on his way out.

Neither Angela or Zach saw Booth enter the building, but both of them saw him leave. They noticed an unusually frosty demeanor between he and Dr. Brennan as they looked for signs that something was amiss. They watched him leave first, and then watched Brennan go in a separate direction, hardly an acknowledgment between them and their body language exhibiting tension. As the two of them disappeared from view, Zach turned to Angela and said "I told you so."

* * *

Victor Ligrano may have been a small time crook and in over his head, but he wasn't a total idiot. He knew the why the feds were following him and that was fine with him as long as the men he had borrowed the $50k from kept their distance. They'd be less inclined to wack him with the FBI watching. He knew, if he didn't figure out what happened to that money, he had some new friends to make a deal with.

Victor racked his brain, trying to figure out where the briefcase of money had gone to. He knew that Sully and Jamie had double crossed both he and Harold Gerber. Gerber was a loose cannon and he figured he had killed Jamie, for leaving him and to get the drugs and money back.

When he found Gerber, dead in that crappy apartment, no stash and no money, he knew he had to find Sully. The word on the street was Sully was still using and selling off little bits of the stash to keep his head above water. When he tracked him down to the Bridge Street Motel, he had found the Scientist broad's address, and as luck would have it, wadded up in the trash, a note from Jamie telling Sully she'd meet him at the cabin.

He had overheard Sully bragging about his grandparents cabin on the lake and how great it was. Victor did a little checking around and discovered where it was. He drove there expecting to find and confront Sully, but instead found the Sheriff and County M.E. hauling his body away and the briefcase full of coke in the Sheriff's possession.

He got the hell out of there, muttering to himself, "Where is the money?"


	8. The Smoking Gun

8. The Smoking Gun_  
_

* * *

Booth's Tuesday morning ritual at the Royal Diner consisted of a bowl of oatmeal sprinkled with brown sugar and a cup of black coffee. He was grateful for the chance to meet with Bones away from the formalities of their respective offices.

"I'm bringing Victor Ligrano in for questioning." Booth moved his empty bowl aside. "The surveillance team is bitching about having to spend another night watching him accept Chinese delivery when their stuck eating crappy cold sandwiches."

Brennan finished her coffee and wavered for a moment before breaking into a smile. "That was meant to be humorous, right? The correlation between the agents having to wait outside while Ligrano accepts more appetizing…"

"Very good Bones, someday you'll be a bigger smart ass than Hodgins."

"Did I hear anyone talking about my ass?" Hodgins appeared, almost out of nowhere and took the counter seat next to Bones.

"Don't flatter yourself Jack," Angela rolled her eyes taking the seat next to Booth.

"Oh great, surrounded by Squints. What did I do this time?" Booth joked, uncertain if he was on the inside looking out or the outside looking in. He felt disappointed that their sanctuary had been breached. "Bones, you coming to this interrogation or not?" He asked impatiently, getting up from the counter stool.

"Yes, I'd like to be there." She looked at Angela and Hodgins out of the corner of her eye uncomfortably. Getting up, she deposited her money on the counter and could feel their eyes boring down on her as she followed Booth out of the Diner.

Booth, in his typical manner, put his hand on the small of her back and was surprised when she recoiled from his touch.

"Booth!" she whispered squirming away from him. "They're watching us."

"What!?" He looked more than a little irritated and received an icy glare in return as they got in his car.

"Wow Ange, you weren't joking, there seems to be some serious tension between them." Hodgins commented, watching them drive off.

"I know, I hate to see beautiful music interrupted like that." Angela couldn't hide the unhappy look on her face.

"Me too." Hodgins looked at her with more than a hint of longing.

* * *

Victor Ligrano, sat in a molded plastic chair in the FBI's interrogation room and looked fairly relaxed for someone who had been brought in for questioning. Booth circled the perimeter of the table, looming over him in an intimidating manner.

"What do you know about Jamie Sheraton and Harold Gerber? " Booth asked, his hands on the table encroaching on Gerber's personal space. "How about a briefcase filled with cocaine? Come on Victor, we know you're involved, we also know you broke into my partner's apartment, trashed the place and assaulted her."

"I want to cut a deal." Ligrano blurted out. These were the first words that he had spoken since he was brought in. "I'll tell you what you want but you got to protect me."

Brennan watched the interrogation from behind the two way mirror, wondering what information Ligrano had that was worthy of cutting a deal for.

"Protect you from what? Maybe I should be asking for a deal, like one that says you tell me what you know or I'll throw your sorry ass in jail."

"I don't like talking to you. I want a lawyer." Ligrano whined.

"Answer me, protect you from what?" Booth's tone was prickly and hard.

"I ain't saying nothing until I get my lawyer."

"No, you know what? Since I'm such a nice guy, I'll be happy to turn you back out on the street. I'm sure that will play out for you real well." Booth's tone dripped with sarcasm.

Ligrano looked panic stricken. "You can't do that to me man, they'll kill me!"

"Who is going to kill you?"

"I got some nasty business associates who aren't too happy about what's gone down. I want my lawyer, and I want to cut a deal." Ligrano turned toward the two-way glass. "You heard me, right?"

The door to the interrogation room opened and an Agent walked in handing Booth a note. Booth read it carefully and walked out without acknowledging Ligrano's confused look. He went into the adjoining room where Brennan stood with her arms crossed in front of her.

"Booth, what is it?"

"Let's get him his lawyer and see what he gives up. You and I need to go, it looks like they found our smoking gun."

* * *

The vehicle impound lot was a thirty minute drive from D.C. and located adjacent to the Anne Arundal County Sheriff's Department. On most occasions they would spend the drive time talking over their case, but there was an uncomfortable silence hanging over them as they headed east on the interstate. Though awkward moments between them were not unusual, Booth knew this particular moment had something to do with his feelings about storage closets, and more importantly, why they ended up in there in the first place.

Booth looked over at his partner in the passenger seat "I'm the one in this partnership that is always uptight, but right now you seem really jumpy. What gives? Are you having second thoughts, you know, about us?"

Bones sighed. "Not at all. I've found, since my books have become successful, that it feels like I'm living in a fish bowl, that's a metaphor for having ones privacy..."

"I know what it means..."

"I don't want our relationship to become fodder for gossip and I don't want to feel vulnerable when it comes to... us." She admitted, looking slightly embarrassed.

Booth felt instantly protective toward her. "I know this isn't about keeping secrets from the Squint Squad, this is about how our relationship has change and I don't want us to get in the way of... us, either."

Bones smiled at him. "Incredible as it seems, I understood what you just said."

"We keep working these cases with a 94% success rate and we agree to take our time about revealing our new status, no one can touch us." Booth squeezed her hand in a show of support.

"You're right, I just need you to be remind me of that." Bones agreed as they drove into the Sheriff's Department vehicle impound lot.

* * *

The lot was a beehive of activity, a team of FBI agents was already on site going through a '98 Dodge Neon. A Deputy greeted them as they got out of their car and handed Booth a report, which he shared with Bones.

"It had been towed into the lot five days ago. They found it abandoned in Beverly Triton Beach Park, it may have gone unnoticed here, but the drug canines went bonkers when they were making their rounds, they popped the trunk open, and found cocaine residue. They also found two distinct set of prints, one belonging to Harold Gerber, the other they're still running a match on." Booth read from the preliminary forensics report.

"The Sheriff went back to search the site where the car was found, and low and behold..." He held up an evidence bag with a revolver inside of it, "the smoking gun... literally." He smirked.

"It's unlikely that Harold Gerber would use this gun to shoot himself and then drive it out to a regional park and throw it into the bushes." Bones remarked, analyzing the information.

If my hunch is right, the prints on the gun will belong to Harold Gerber and ballistics will show it was the weapon used to kill Jamie Sheraton. I think Gerber was none to happy about his girlfriend and Sully hooking up and ripping him off. He murdered Jamie in a fit of rage."

"If that is all true, which has yet to be proven, it only points out how irrational and nonsensical a crime of passion can be." Bones was skeptical.

"How true, and I'll remind you of that, next time you drag me into a closet." He couldn't help but chuckle.

She blushed at the remark, but in the next beat asked, "So if we know who killed Jamie Sheraton, then who killed Harold Gerber?"

* * *

"Hi Sweetie, you have a minute to talk?" Angela asked walking into her office. It was late afternoon and Brennan had returned to the Jeffersonian to answer emails.

She looked up from her desk. "Sure, is there something wrong?"

"What's going on between you and Booth?" Angela scrutinized her colleague and friend.

Brennan cheeks turned rosy, as if she had a bad encounter with a make up artist at the mall. "I don't know what you mean." She tried not to sound nervous.

"Look Bren, even Zach noticed it."

"Zach? Zach makes me look like Dr. Mel, when it comes to relationship issues with people."

"Dr. Phil, Bren. Honey, you can confide in me."

"Angela, you are my best friend, but I'm not ready to talk to anyone about my relationship with Booth. I'm not even sure I understand what's happened between us."

She gave her an understanding look. "Okay, I know where you're coming from, it's not easy having the people you work with know what's going on in your personal life. Jack and I can attest to that. I'm here for you if you need to talk."

"Thanks Ange."

"Okay Sweetie, just remember, these relationships we have are important and worth the effort."

Brennan nodded, wondering how Angela and Zach could possibly know what was going on between her and Booth. She watched her walk out of her office and right toward Booth who had just entered into the building. Angela gave him a knowing smile, leaving the FBI agent looking perplexed.

"What is it with this place?" Booth asked as he walked into Bones' office.

"Angela came in to tell me they've noticed that something's going on between us!"

"Well there is something going on." Booth answered, the corners of his mouth turning up.

"She said even Zach noticed!" Bones said excitedly.

"What? When did Zach become a regular on Loveline?" Booth looked even more amused.

"I don't know what that means… Booth, what should we do? I know we agreed it shouldn't matter as long as we do our job well, but I'm not good at hiding things."

Booth leaned over her desk. "Look, we are two consenting adults and as long as we don't let this interfere with work, we don't have to admit to anything, because we haven't done anything wrong, right?"

"So we should just continue to be discreet, act professional... no need to expound on our personal life." She rationalized, trying to squelch down the thought of the storage closet. "Why are you here?" She asked putting her forensic anthropologist face back on.

"Forensics confirmed, the gun was used to kill Jamie Sheraton and the prints on it belong to Harold Gerber." Booth said.

"Did they get a match on the other set of prints?"

"No, but I have an idea?"

"And that would be..." Bones asked, genuinely curious.

"It's just another hunch and I know how you feel about that. Give me a little latitude and I'll let you know." Booth said skirting the issue. "Listen, Bones, I'm not trying to be too presumptuous, just presumptuous enough to ask if you want to have Thai food with me tonight."

"I'd love to, but I should have reminded you sooner, you're coming with me to a cocktail party at the Hay-Adams Hotel. My publicist, Sharon, says we need to be there by 7:00 pm" Bones apologized. "Will you still go with me?"

"Not a problem, but I have one request." He had a very impish look on his face.

"And... that would be?"

"You know that black dress that fits you like a glove..."


	9. Cocktails, Conversation and crooks

9. Cocktails, Conversation and Crooks

* * *

She sat in the back seat of the black Towne Car, the glow from the streetlamp illuminating her. She pressed two on her speed dial "We're here." She looked out of the window and up into his apartment.

He appeared a moment later, standing in the doorway of his building, his frame silhouetted against the back light of the foyer. As he walked to the car, the driver opened the vehicle door for him and Booth slid into the back seat.

"Nice" he admired the beige leather upholstery by running his hand across the seat. "Very nice" he stated admiring Bones. "You look really beautiful." The little black dress, she decided, was a good choice when she saw the look of approval in his eyes.

"Thank you, you look very handsome." He wore an off white silk shirt, open at the collar and his dark brown trousers and jacket were far from FBI standard issue. He smelled delicious, his aftershave was musky and all male, and she felt heady as she inhaled his distinctive masculine scent.

The sedan gave them a chance to sit close, something that the small FBI hybrid car or the huge SUV never allowed. He slung his arm across the back of the seat and scooted over, enjoying the close proximity of her thigh against his as the car drove smoothly through the streets of the Capitol.

"So, what am I tonight? FBI partner, friend, bodyguard… lover?" He asked, his voice was soft in her ear.

"How about all of the above? Just don't break any arms." She teased, feeling light hearted and aroused by his presence.

"My publicist says this is a major event for me. They received about a hundred RSVP's from daily newspaper and weekly magazine book editors and their photographers, representatives from on-line book stores, book distributors, PR and advertising firms. The Publisher and some of his personal friends are guest."

Booth looked non-plussed. "Tell me why I'm here, again?"

"Hopefully your presence will help dissuade those overly aggressive guests from harassing me. I have been told to be less offensive and defensive and more social, but it seems when I am, it leads me wanting to break someones arm."

"Okay, I won't hover but if you need me, you can send up a flare."

She leaned over, kissed his cheek. "I appreciate you being here, and I'll repay the favor... eventually." He thought the innuendo was more than a good effort on her part, and he rewarded her with an open mouthed kiss that made her squirm.

The car pulled up in front of the historic hotel on Lafayette Square, the driver got out, opened the door to help Brennan out and he not so subtly let his eyes roam over her body in the clingy dress.

"I got a gun..." Booth muttered under his breath, leaving the car, and startling the driver out of his daze as he scramble back into the safety of the vehicle.

As they entered the elegant lobby of the Hay-Adams Hotel, they were greeted by a petite blonde woman in her fifties, who, judging from her attire, was fond of sequins.

"Temperance, you look good enough to eat!" She gushed.

Booth murmured in Bones' ear "Now there's an idea..."

"I get that one, it has nothing to do with food" she murmured back, her eyes full of merriment. "Sharon, this is my partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth with the FBI. Booth, my publicist, Sharon Nash."

"Very nice to meet you." Sharon stammered, seemingly tongue tied at the sight of the FBI Agent.

Bones was a little puzzled by the woman's reaction but she took another look, and realized her always handsome and impeccably dressed partner, had shed his conservative and professional FBI persona and replaced it with something a little more dangerous and lot more sexy.

"We have the Rooftop Terrace for the evening, it has a wonderful view of the White House and the Washington Memorial" Sharon chattered on, leading them to the elevator. As soon as they walked into the room, Bones was greeted by the CEO of her publishing company, and a photographer who immediately stepped up to take some pictures.

Sharon led Booth over to the bar and suggested he get himself a drink. She looked like she wanted to ask him something, but bit her tongue, smiled and told him to stay visible.

The dark paneled room filled with guests, all of them wanting to get near Bones and all of them acknowledging she looked stunning. Her dress was timeless and sophisticated, it molded around her well toned curves and showed enough to be alluring, but hid enough not to be gauche. Her skin looked like porcelain under the chandelier light, the muscles in her legs showed definition and looked long and lean in her black stiletto heels. She seemed relaxed and poised and knowing Booth was there, boosted her confidence. When she caught his eye, she saw a spark of admiration and a hint of longing.

As the party progressed, the guests began to mingle amongst themselves. Waitstaff with trays of appetizers and flutes of champagne wound their way through the crowd, offering the guests refreshments.

Booth watched and listened to the men and women in the crowd, they exchanged stories and looked for opportunities to posture themselves and to flaunt their influence. It was clear how little Bones had in common with them. Although her books were making her a household name, she rejected the celebrity status associated with it, maintaining her identity as a scientist and a consultant with the FBI that solves crimes.

He watched, as she politely talked to the guests, at one point he almost intervened, when a man whispered something in her ear and her expression showed contempt, but she handled him with a few words and gave Booth a satisfied grin. As the champagne flowed, many of the women began to assert themselves and he found himself fending off unwanted attention as well.

A young woman wandered over to him, her breasts spilling out of her skimpy silver cocktail dress, demanded his attention. "Hi, are you as bored as I am?" she asked with a coquettish smile.

"Not at all. I like people watching." Looking at her, he thought in a past life, he would have been more than happy to have a woman with her tarty appearance approach him.

"I'd say you're the only one worth watching. My name's Shannon, what brings you here?" The signs were all there and her blatant attempts at flirtation only annoyed him. "I'm here on official business" he answered.

Not willing to give up, she pouted. "All work and no play? That's no fun. Why don't you let me help you out with that."

Booth looked at her squarely. "Shannon, I'm sure you're very nice and I am also sure you'll have no trouble finding someone to entertain you, but that someone isn't going to be me." He flashed her a smile and made his way toward the opposite side of the room, leaving her behind. He checked his watch, hoping they could soon escape the party.

From this new perspective, his eyes circled around Bones from a distance, patiently waiting to chase off anyone who overstepped their boundaries. One in particular, a tall, well groomed man caused him to get closer.

"Please, take my card, I'm sure you could use a good marketing person to help you with your book sales, how about we do lunch, or even better dinner. I know a great little Italian place, very private we could talk over a nice bottle of wine. I'm very good at what I do." The man alleged, encroaching on her personal space. "Let me show you... I won't disappoint you..."

Booth saw the effort she was making not to be rude and had confidence she was capable of avoiding his advances, but like the alpha male she described him to be, enough was enough and he stepped forward to intercede.

"Temperance" he said, purposely using her given name and conveying familiarity. It was unnecessary for him to say more as he stepped behind her with no more than a millimeter between them."Booth, this is Mark Powers, he owns a marketing firm that specializes in contemporary popular literature. Mark, this is my FBI partner, Seeley Booth." She couldn't help laughing to herself when a defeated look, crossed the marketing wizard's face, as he politely shook Booth's hand.

"I hope you'll call if you think we can do business" he emphasized the word business, trying to make amends. "It was nice meeting you, enjoy your evening" and with a pair of cold brown eyes staring at him, he quickly walked away.

"Your good at this." She was more than a little pleased at his actions.

"Always here to back you up, you know that" he replied and Bones felt a ripple of pleasure spread through her.

"We won't have to stay too much longer, Sharon has a few more people on her list who I need to meet." The words were barely out of her mouth when the publicist suddenly appeared and took her arm, giving Booth an apologetic look as she led her away.

"Temperance, between you and that partner of yours, you're causing quite a stir. The sexual chemistry between the two of you is thick enough to cut with a knife."

"That's hormones and the alcohol causing a heightened and uninhibited state of sexual anxiety. I admit, he has a certain appeal and looks especially attractive this evening, but we're professionals, Booth is just here to show his support."

"Call it what you like, but I'm no fool." She dangled a hotel room key in front of her. "As you requested, so you won't have to drive after drinking, but you must have forgotten, that's why we hired you a car." She chuckled.

"Thank you Sharon, and remember if anyone asks, Booth and I are just professional colleagues." She took the key and put it in her purse.

"Right, and I'm Heidi Klum" Sharon laughed.

"I don't know who that is." Bones muttered, but Sharon was already leading her toward a middle aged man who looked slightly out of place in his flashy suit and shoes.

"Temperance, this is Mr. Villareal. He's a stock holder at Shuman & Sons and a key player in the publishing business. Mr. Villareal meet Dr. Temperance Brennan. If you'll excuse me, I need to check in with USA Today." She scurried away into the crowd.

Bones extended her hand in greeting and Villareal shook it. When she tried to let go, he gripped it tightly. "Dr. Brennan, it really is a pleasure to meet you." The man looked her up and down and smiled.

"Please Mr. Villareal, I'm not trying to be rude, but give me back my hand." She pulled away from his grasp.

"Dr. Brennan, Temperance, I understand we have a few connections outside of publishing. You look like an astute business woman. I may make you an offer you can't refuse." He guided her toward a quiet corner of the room, essentially cornering her.

She looked at him warily, and then looked for Booth, who was being double teamed by two female graphic designers. "I'm quite sure I don't know what you're talking about" she answered.

"As an associate of the FBI, it must be a good way for you to gather research for your books, which I have enjoyed, but it's come to my attention that you're involved in a case right now that has ties to one of our firm's business associates. It may seem petty, but we cannot afford to allow one of our borrowers to default on a loan, it's sends out a very negative message."

"I can't speak to you about an ongoing investigation." Her eyes flashing with anger.

"Then let me speak. We know you were involved with this man, Tim Sullivan, and we also know that Victor Ligrano is a fool. However even a dead man and a fool can have allies. If you have anything to do with the missing money, it would make sense for you to turn it over right now. I promise you it will be in your best interest." He said in a menacing tone, grabbing her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh.

"How dare you threaten me!" Bones was seething with anger, when a large hand clamped down on Villareal's shoulder, crushing it until he let go of Bones' arm.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. If she doesn't break your arm, I will." Booth threatened. He had seen the interaction between them and when Villareal dared to touch her, he acted.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Booth warned him, trying to contain his anger.

Villareal jerked himself loose from Booth's grip. "Let me tell you and your lady scientist something, this is business and I get to call the shots. You may live with rules, limits and a sense of righteousness, but I have business dealings with many influential people and agencies, including the FBI." Villareal spat out. He looked directly at Bones. "You want to have me arrested? Go ahead, but I'll make enough noise to disrupt this party, cause a scene and have the media all over you... if the facts don't get you, the gossip will."

"Neither of us is afraid of you and your petty threats. I know nothing about your accusations and you're the one who had better leave unless you want my partner to lead you out of here in handcuffs. I'm not beyond filing an assault charge, and if anyone should be afraid of gossip, it's you. For every corrupt cop, there are a hundred like Booth, the odds are you'll get the justice you deserve." Bones countered, trying to contain the rage she felt.

"Tit for tat." Villareal replied in a civilized tone. "I'll leave, but this isn't over." He waited a moment for Booth to act, but Bones held him back with her hand on his arm, and Villareal walked away. As he left the room, he grabbed the woman in the silver dress and took her with him.

"What the hell was that about and who the hell is he?" Booth asked angrily. "Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine. He thinks I know where the missing case of money is. He funded Ligrano and isn't willing to take the loss." Bones answered. "Ligrano begging for a plea bargain makes a lot more sense."

"God damn it! Why did you stop me from arresting him?" Booth admonished her. "He threatened you and if he is half as connected as he says he is, you're in danger. This party or any embarrassment isn't worth your life!"

"Booth, that's not it. You think an assault charge will change anything? If we are going to work together and be together, we have to stop and think about the larger picture. We have a case, they'll take us off of it if they think our judgment isn't sound."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He searched for reason in her eyes and knew she was right as he struggled to keep his anger under check.

"You're right. How much longer do you have to stay?" He asked taking control of himself.

Bones' reached in her small purse and produced the room key. "The car will be back for us in the morning. Booth, the other night, you told me to live in the moment. I've come to believe, that was very good advice."


	10. Everlong

Warning: Contains Mature Sexual Content

* * *

10. Everlong_**  
**_

* * *

Room service is a guilty pleasure, and even more so, in a luxury room at the Hay-Adams Hotel. Brennan sat on the edge of the bed, Booth across from her in an armchair, a room service cart between them littered with remnants of a Rueben sandwich and hand cut fries for him and a Crab Louie with crusty French bread for her. She brushed the crumbs from her bread into a small pile and sipped from her glass of Chardonnay while he knocked back his bottle of Stella Artois. The food and drink helped take the edge off of their encounter with Villareal, but until the missing money was found and the murder solved, the case would continue to dog them.

The guests mingled, ate and drank but for Booth and Brennan the cocktail party came to a crashing halt after Villareal made his threats and accusations. She sought out her publicist, made apologies and they escaped to the hotel room a floor below. Agitated and preoccupied with the murder investigation, he had been reticent about staying the night but, she eventually enticed him with food... and her company.

Her high heels lay in a corner of the room and her jewelry lay in a small pile on the dresser. He had thrown his jacket on a chair, pulled his shirttails out and discarded his shoes in an effort to make himself comfortable. Her iPod played in the background, she hoped between the music, food and drink, it would sooth and relax them, helping them escape the confines of their own heads.

He pushed the cart out into the hall, turning the do not disturb sign out, before closing the door. Bones stood in front of the double French doors to the lanai, lost in thought, looking out on the view of St. John's Church, the city lights twinkling just beyond. Watching her, he realized, how many consequences he suffered because of missed opportunities and unsaid feelings. Whether it was fear of the unknown or an unchallenged complacency, however explained, he understood these moments were not to be wasted.

Booth came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Bones? You okay?"

"Yes, I am." Turning in his arms she searched for reassurance in his eyes, that would tell her he wanted to be here, as much as she did.

"Remember... we live in the moment." Brennan whispered and her arms went around his neck, their lips pressing hungrily together, their need for each other was undeniable. The only noises coming from the room were the faint little sounds one makes when kisses take your breath away, intermingled with music filling in the blank spaces around them.

_Hello__  
I've waited here for you  
Everlong  
__Tonight  
__I throw myself into  
__And out of the red, out of her head she sang_

His silk shirt rustled as she carefully undid the buttons and slipped it off of his shoulders. She ran her hands down his shoulders and arms, then up his chest, feeling his hard muscular body and silently naming off parts of his anatomy to herself as he vibrated under her touch.

_Come down  
__And waste away with me  
__Down with me  
__Slow how  
__You wanted it to be  
__I'm over my head, out of her head she sang_

She kissed his neck, and with her tongue made a path to his nipples, kissing and fondling them with her teeth and lips until his breathing become erratic. His hands found themselves tangled in her hair, holding himself near her, letting her attention wash over him.

_And I wonder  
__When I sing along with you  
__If everything could ever feel this real forever  
__If anything could ever be this good again  
__The only thing I'll ever ask of you  
__You've got to promise not to stop when I say when  
__She sang_

She smiled seductively as she unbuckled his belt, unclasped and unzipped his trousers and pulled them down. She knelt down onto her knees in front of him and he struggled to keep his balance as she helped him untangle himself from his pants. Enamored with the sight in front of her, she carefully held him in her hand and used the end of her tongue to slide up and down his length.

_Breathe out  
__So I could breathe you in  
__Hold you in  
__And now  
__I know you've always been  
__Out of your head, out of my head I sang_

She felt him grow harder and larger when she wrapped her lips around him, taking as much of him in, breathing and concentrating on controlling her own reflexes, trying her best to accommodate his girth and length.

"Jesus, Bones, I can't take much more of this" he groaned as she took her tongue and swirled it around him, engulfing and caressing him with her warm wet mouth.

_And I wonder  
When I sing along with you  
__If everything could ever feel this real forever  
If anything could ever be this good again  
__The only thing I'll ever ask of you  
__You've got to promise not to stop when I say when  
__She sang_

He felt himself completely at her mercy, barely in control, as she braced herself against him, waiting for the inevitable moment of release. Unable to restrain himself, fueled by his own lust, she felt his hips thrust forward. The sounds he made, the way his body swayed and how he responded to her, drove her on.

_And I wonder  
__When I sing along with you  
__If everything could ever feel this real forever  
__If anything could ever be this good again_

Booth reeled from the passionate assault, for a moment his reality became distorted, his consciousness drowning in the sensation of havoc coursing through him. His body inflamed by her relentless attention, he felt himself being thrown over the edge of sanity, and when he finally climaxed, she refused to let him go, sharing in his ecstasy until he was completely spent, devouring every last trace of energy out of him.

_The only thing I'll ever ask of you  
__You've got to promise not to stop when I say when_

He collapsed on the floor next to her, his face and body flushed with the aftermath of desire, holding her in his arms, he finally found his voice. "You're really killing me..."

"The French refer to it as 'Le Petit Morte', it means a little death" she helped him stand and steered him toward the bed. She felt empowered and intoxicated, knowing the effect she had on him.

"Leave it to the French" he mumbled and he laid himself out on the bed, not daring to move or open his eyes as he drifted away. He was barely aware of his surroundings, when he heard water running. It was just loud enough to rouse him, but not enough to move him. He eventually rolled off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom, greeted by a very large bathtub, the Jacuzzi jets whipping up the bath wash into a mass of bubbles. Booth watched Bones ease herself in, submerging herself head and all, rising up and wiping the hot bubbles out of her face before finally leaning back in bliss.

He lowered the lights, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness and stepped into the tub, settling in across from her, their legs entwined. The hot jets of water kneaded the muscles in his lower back, while the music floated in and out of the steam.

* * *

Wrapped in thick velvety hotel bathrobes, they raided the mini bar. A mineral water for her, an orange juice for him and they drank greedily, thirsty from the food and sex they had recently indulged in.

"What time are we being picked up?" Booth stood on the lanai, looking out at the city. He watched the lights and the DC traffic buzz through the streets. It was nearing midnight, but the city would not sleep for a few more hours.

"Seven, he'll call when he gets here" she joined him in the cool night air. "We should get some sleep, I imagine we'll both be busy tomorrow."

He led her back into the warmth of the hotel room, closing the french doors, and shutting the cold out. He thought she looked beautiful, her face and hair scrubbed clean, no traces from the cocktail party lingered, he shook the thought of 'too good to be true' out of his head.

"You're right, sleep is what we both need, but there is something I need to do first" he whispered pulling on the ties of her robe and slipping his hands inside, feeling her skin glowing with warmth.

"This is a quality I admire in you" she chuckled under her breath. "You are, a fair and just man."

"Let me" his breath felt hot on her neck, "Make you feel what you made me feel" he murmured in her ear. He caressed her back, inching his way down her spine until he reached the smooth rounded globes of her ass, stroking them and pulling her near him with his large hands.

"Hmm..." she sighed, as his fingers probed at her. His gentle but firm touch found her already moist, scorching and ready.

He backed her up until her knees came in contact with the bed and he guided her down. Grabbing a pillow, setting it on the floor, he knelt between her legs.

"I've dreamed about this a thousand times" he confessed. He lifted each of her legs up onto the bed and she leaned back on her arms, watching him nuzzle the inside of her thigh. He forged a trail toward her center, nibbling and licking his way there, and at the same time, letting his fingers explore her.

Her sighs turned to whimpers and she caught her breath when he ran his lips over her, tasting the smooth skin between her legs. It was different, almost forbidden and he marveled at seeing her swell under his attention. Taking his time, pushing two of his fingers into her, he curled them up ever so slightly and stroked her inner walls toward him, beckoning her to follow her desire. He took her into his mouth, lavishing attention on her and searching relentlessly with his tongue and fingers for the place that would send her spiraling out of control. Her head lolled back and the sounds of her arousal quickened, he stepped up his pace, working his fingers in and out of her while licking her with a flat tongue, suckling her into his mouth and then flicking at her. He could feel her getting close when her whimpers turned to cries, then suddenly, he felt a wave of intensity pass through her like a current of electricity. Her hips bucked up against him, her body twisted into ecstasy as she came, fast and hard.

When her orgasm began to subside, he continued his delectable torture of her with his lips, tongue and fingers, knowing she was in his power and sensing she was capable. Instead of settling for the moment to end, she found herself facing the thrill of more torment, climbing the same peak upward and than experiencing the sensation of falling into magnificent pleasure. And, when she thought it was finally ending, it wasn't, her merciless body made it happen all over again and she rode with it and could only struggle to regain a sense of reality.

"Oh my God… This is madness... " she gasped.

Booth was thrumming from this encounter with her. He couldn't quite believe this was really happening, but he refused to pinch himself, less he wake up. Instead, he kissed his way up her torso until he reached her breasts, licking one nipple until it hardened into a peak and then lapping at the other. His tongue continued its journey toward her collarbone and then her neck. He rubbed his hard member against her sex and found she was soaking wet and engorged from the multiple orgasms she experienced. He flipped her over on to her stomach and lifted her hips up, penetrating her and slamming in and out of her until he seized in uncontrollable pleasure.

"Bones? Baby are you okay?" He stroked her hair back out of her face, overcome with concern, fearing he may have hurt her.

"I may need you to carry me out of here, but I'm more than okay."

She turned her head and gave him a shameless smile.


	11. Shannon's Story

11. Shannon's Story

* * *

Just like a line of marching ants, the automobiles creeped along back to back and the hum of their engines nudged the city awake. The sidewalks slowly fill with pedestrians who weave around each other and scurry into buildings. These urban foot soldiers hang up their coats, sit at their desks and boot up their computers, acknowledging that another work day has begun. Daylight has a way of filtering priorities and topping the list is strong black coffee, a charged cell phone battery and access to email.

The mechanics of keeping the Capitol alive and functioning had all but erased the strife and passion from the previous night. The car and driver picked them up at 7:00 am and they left the hotel without fanfare. No one was remotely interested in the overdressed couple, it isn't easy to turn heads in a city where discretion is obligatory. Their vehicle joined the swarm of automobiles, and as the path to their apartments became evident, so did the responsibilities of the coming day.

They pulled up in front of Brennan's apartment and Booth helped her out of the back seat.

"I owe you thanks. As usual spending the evening with you is always interesting." She took his arm as they walked toward her entryway. "Although I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, your presence was helpful and comforting..." Brennan raised her eyebrows at him "...in more than one way. That was meant to be amusing, you get it?"

He gave the brilliant woman a lop-sided grin. "Right, but don't quit your job at the Jeffersonian to go into comedy..."

"Why would I do that?" She had a quizzical look on her face that he wiped away with a kiss.

"I'll call you later this morning and let you know what I find out about Villareal. I want you to be careful... his threats shouldn't be taken lightly. Bones, you handled him well, I was impressed."

"Thanks!" She looked pleased and before she opened her front door, she easily coaxed another kiss out of him before going in. Booth lingered for a moment, this was better than he had imagined. An understanding passed between them, it was a mixture of camaraderie, compassion and gratitude. Something only devoted friends could fully appreciate.

* * *

Angela poured herself a mug and held up the carafe. "More coffee?"

Hodgins shook his head. He looked over the railing at the workstations below. "You really think there's a problem between them? Maybe we're reading something that isn't really there."

"Look, I might be wrong, but if you watch their behavior, you'll see it yourself, it's odd. They don't seem relaxed with each other and their arguing, which used to amount to foreplay, is definitely toned down. I told you, when I tried to bring it up with Brennan, she totally shut me out. She said she wasn't ready to talk about it." Angela frowned.

"Maybe they got tired of all the B.S. and they hit the self-destruct button. As single units, they aren't that complicated, but when you mix two combustible elements..." Hodgins puffed his cheeks out, made a face, and waved his hands around "It can explode, baby... whooosh!"

"Nice metaphor Jack, you have a way with words. All partnerships have their ups and downs, this is one of those down moments for them. Cam is right, it's none of our business and we should stay out of it."

He shook his head at her. "This isn't over, there's more to this story."

* * *

Brennan tapped the bobble head on his desk. The plastic English Bobby nodded back at her. She had changed her clothes and took a cab to FBI Headquarters. "So what did you find out?"

"Not much. Nicholas Villareal, Principal with the Tribulani Corporation, his profession lists him a private investor with an office in Baltimore. I looked but there was nothing to suggest fraud or tax evasion. His criminal past is insignificant, several traffic violations, a domestic assault charge that had been dismissed, no jail time or heavy fines. He's not squeaky clean, but he doesn't appear to be dirty."

"That certainly not what he wanted us to believe." Brennan rolled her shoulders back and turned her head from side to side. "I should go back to the Jeffersonian and get some work done."

Booth sank back into his chair, flicking his pen on the desk impatiently, he was frustrated with the dead ends and sighed. "I'll drop you off and then I'm going to follow up on that lead I mentioned. I'll catch up with you later."

Before they could leave, his cell phone buzzed.

"Booth" A puzzled look crossed his face after he answered the call. "No, I'll speak to her, I'll be right there." He got up from his desk and grabbed his jacket off of the back of his chair.

"What was that all about?" Brennan looked at him curiously. "Where are you going?"

"Come on, that was building security. There's someone downstairs asking to talk with me, it's the woman who left the cocktail party with Villareal. Her name is Shannon Meyers." He guided her out of his office and toward the elevators. "She said it was urgent, a matter of life and death..."

"Yes, I saw her, she had on the silver lame dress. She was extremely interested in you and I thought she looked quite offended when you walked away from her."

He looked as surprised as he felt. He that she hadn't noticed. "You must have eyes in the back of your head."

She smirked at him as they got in the elevator. "You've taught me some valuable observational skills."

"Remind me to find out what other skills you've learned." He held the elevator door for her and they walked out and down a hallway.

* * *

Shannon Meyers had been placed in an interrogation room and they watched her through a one way window net door. She barely resembled the woman in the provocative cocktail dress from the night before. Instead, she was dressed in denim jeans, a t-shirt and sweater. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore large framed sunglasses. At a glance, she looked like a college student.

"I'll stay here, she's more likely to speak openly if you're alone with her." Brennan offered.

He left her in one room and headed for the other. "I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth, you wanted to speak to me?"

"Yeah, I do. It's about Nicky Villareal." She looked toward the one way window. "Is that where your girlfriend hangs out?"

"We're actually partners and professional colleagues." Booth answered her with little emotion.

She scoffed at him. "I wouldn't mind being someone's colleague, especially if he looked at me like you look at her."

Booth deflected the comment with a question. "Ms. Meyers, what is it you want to tell me?"

"I decided it's time to give him up. You know he's a jerk." Her voice crackled with emotion.

"Shannon, will you take your sunglasses off?" He suspected as much, when she slid them off her face, and a swollen black eye looked back at him.

Shannon's demeanor was cocky and her voice filled with bravado. "It was Nicky, he was really pissed off that you stood up to him at that lame ass party. He really wanted to hurt your girlfriend, but instead he took it out on me. He's knocked me around before, but not like this." She lifted her t-shirt up to show the bruise on her rib cage. "I may be a lot of things, but I'm not stupid, so I'm asking you to help me."

Booth softened his voice, he hated men who beat on women. "If you feel your in danger, I can offer you some protection. Is that the only reason you're here?"

"No, he's an asshole and I don't mind ratting him out." Shannon put her sun glasses back on. "I've heard Nicky talking, ya know, I pay attention to what's going on. That money he was hassling your girlfriend about, uh partner... whatever she is, he loaned to this low life, Victor. It was fifty grand to be exact. Victor was going to score a kilo of coke with it, but the dweeb got double crossed and ripped off. Nicky knew he was too dumb to do anything about it so he had one of his boys track down the dealer, who turned out to be this couple, who were pretty stupid themselves. He cut a deal with them, they would give the money back and he wouldn't come after them, except when the girl was supposed to meet and hand the money over she never showed.

"Okay, go on" Booth rested his elbows on the table and leaned his chin on this folded hands.

"See, Nicky liked to think he's a big shot, but he's not. He's small time. Why'd you think he'd lend someone like Victor money? Think about it. Nicky's got a couple of cops in his pocket and a city manager, but he was bluffing when he said he knew people at the FBI. He's all about making people believe he's someone important. He didn't kill that girl, he wouldn't know how, her ex-boyfriend did it." Shannon looked disgusted as she spat out the words.

"Anyway, I never thought Nicky was much of a threat to anyone, except after last night... I'm not sticking around to find out." She touched the side of her face where the bruise started.

Booth looked at Shannon with empathy, a look Brennan knew was authentic. "You know the ex-boyfriend your speaking of was also found murdered."

"No waay?" Her look of shock was genuine. "Look, I'm just saying he is a gaping asshole, but he and Victor are still scrambling, trying to figure out what happened to the money. It's bad enough the cops got the kilo, but they know your girlfriend doesn't have the money, so it's still out there."

Brennan looked at them through the glass. She silently acknowledged that Shannon verified what they already knew. Another pieces of the puzzle, but they were no closer to finding a murderer and the missing money.

* * *

Victor could feel a bead of sweat roll down his temple into his collar. He was a bundle of nerves as he waited to be let out of the cell they were holding him in. His insistence that his life was in danger had been ignored and he knew he'd be back out on the street within an hour. He methodically went over every person that had something to do with this whole set up and tried to come up with a likely scenario. He considered one of Villareal's boys, they were crooks after all, but all three of them had still been hanging around and he figured if you had come into $50K, hanging with Nicky and Shannon was far from being a good time.

Then there was Shannon, she was a firecracker all right, but like Villareal's other people, she wasn't likely to stick around if she had ripped off her old man. The trigger happy mule didn't have the cash and neither did the Lady Scientist. There was really only one other possibility.

As the FBI agent came to escort him out of the holding cell, Victor made up his mind, he would get to the bottom of this. He only hoped it was before someone else did.


	12. The Motel Manager

12. The Motel Manager

* * *

Booth gripped the steering wheel with one hand and held his phone to his ear with the other. They sped down the arterial toward the beltway. "Right… thanks. They've cut Ligrano loose, I'm having him followed and I wouldn't be surprised if we run into him, so keep your head up."

Brennan looked at him from the passenger seat, contemplative, her brow furrowed. "As far as a murder suspect goes, we have nothing on Ligrano, or on Villareal for that matter. The only thing Shannon Meyers gave up is that neither of them is a seasoned drug dealer and both want the money back. What are you thinking? Who do you suspect."

"You're right, the cast of characters has dwindled down to nothing, but the motel manager, Tom Hascall, he's been on my radar from the beginning. I asked one of my agents to go over everything they had on him with a fine toothed comb." Even Booth's dark glasses couldn't hide the keen look in his eyes.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "What led you to believe he might be a viable suspect?" Her curiosity was evident.

He took turns looking at her and at the road as they merged onto the highway and headed east toward Prince George County. "I just had a gut feeling, and I know how that goes over with you."

Bones looked slightly insulted. "Just because I don't believe in jumping to conclusions doesn't mean I won't listen to what you have to say. Did they find anything?"

"Yeah, he charged a delivery fee to his credit card three days ago and when they dug a little deeper, they found a warranty card he turned in for a flat screen TV. Even though he paid for it in cash we got an address. I'm going to check it out."

"It's a valid question, how the manager of a motel that charges forty-nine dollars a night, could afford to pay cash for an expensive item like a large television set. Coupled with the knowledge, that he had ample time to observe Jamie and Sully, makes Tom Hascall a viable suspect."

"See Bones, my gut, your brain, they're of like minds...uh, like body organs." He reached over and patted her hand affectionately.

* * *

Ligrano got out of the taxi and threw a few bills at the driver. He knew the Feds were tailing him so he purposely ditched his car in favor of a cab and had himself dropped off at Union Station. He quickly entered the train station and made his way across the expansive terminal and ducked into a convenience store, where he bought a pack of gum, a hooded sweatshirt with a Redskin's logo, and a ball cap with the White House seal embroidered on it. He tore the tags off the garment and tugged it on over his head and pulled the ball cap down far enough to shade his eyes. He hung around the store for a few minutes, looking at magazines and biding his time, when he suddenly darted out of the store and down the corridor into the food court.

He maneuvered himself between the scattered tables filled with tourists and commuters and settled himself between two families at the end of a rectangular table. When one of the families got up to leave, he tagged alongside them, asking for directions to someplace he didn't care about, and then abruptly turned away from them running up a flight of stairs two at a time. On the mezzanine level, he headed straight for the mens room where he staid for a good five minutes, turning his sweatshirt inside out to obscure the logo, stuffing the cap into his pocket and pulling his hood up before calmly walking out of the public bathroom and down the stairs. Back in the main part of the terminal he didn't stop, until he found the entry to the Red Line, where he hopped on the first subway car that came by.

Victor was good at hiding in plain site and the FBI agents who were sent to follow him had found that out.

* * *

Tom Hascall rented a duplex approximately three miles from the Bridge Street Motel. Like most of the homes and buildings in the area, his building was in serious need of paint and the yard in need of a lawn mower. A beat up car with a flat tire was parked in front of the one story house. It had been converted into two units, his being in the basement.

Booth, with his weapon in his hand motioned for her to follow behind him. "We should proceed with caution, if he's our guy, no telling what he's capable of." He cringed when he saw Bones remove her pistol from her blazer pocket.

She saw his disapproving look and lowered her voice to a whisper. "I keep telling you, I'm quite a good shot."

They made their way around the house, through the overgrown grass on the walkway, where a clean but older model racing motorcycle was parked just beyond the back entry to the house.

Booth rapped on the door "Tom Hascall, FBI, we need to speak to you." He didn't wait for a reply and tried the knob, it turned in his hand easily and he cautiously opened the door.

They stepped into the dim entryway, and down three stairs, their eyes adjusting to the low light, and approached a closed door, the constant noise of a television behind it.

"Tom Hascall, FBI!" Booth called out, waiting all of two seconds before he kicked the door open with little effort.

The room was lit up by a new 42" flat screen TV sitting on top of the packing carton it came in. No one was in sight, but above the drone of the TV, they could barely make out sounds coming from further inside the apartment.

Booth quickly moved around the TV and into a bedroom and found a set of blinds askew and a window thrown open. From outside came the noise of a motorcycle engine being revved up. He scrambled out of the window and rolled out onto the grass and then to his feet, and cursed, when he sprinted to the street and saw the motorcycle rounding the corner at the end of the block.

He ran back to his car and pounded the hood with his fist and kicked the tire in frustration. "Bones! Come on!" He yelled, and grabbed the radio out of the car to call for back up.

She came out of the house and rushed toward their parked car.

"The bastard got away." Booth stood with his hands on his hips looking disgusted.

"An innocent man doesn't climb through a window to escape from the FBI. You should see what he's got in that apartment besides the TV. Camera equipment, cell phones, two laptop computers, plus the registration to the motorcycle he drove off on is sitting on the kitchen counter." Bones' eyes were big as she described the contents.

"You see anything that looks like the money?"

"You think he left in such a hurry that he'd leave it behind?"

"What do you think?"

* * *

Booth had kept his word and placed Shannon Meyers under protective custody. The DC Police had taken her to an agency to speak to a social worker, where she was placed in a safe house for the next forty eight hours.

Shannon was twenty seven years old and had spent the last three years allowing Nicholas Villareal to be a kind of twisted surrogate father to her that she also slept with. He was controlling and hot-headed and treated her like an errant child. Over the last year, she came to the conclusion that he wasn't all that smart, or maybe what she realized was she was smarter than anyone gave her credit for.

She paid close attention to Nicky's business dealings and made note of the various people he came in contact with. She could have told him that getting involved with a loser like Victor Ligrano was a mistake, but decided to learn something useful from their relationship, instead.

At the safe house, Shannon sat in the small room on the single bed that was covered with a worn blanket and flattened pillow, and got out a small spiral bound journal. She had carefully made notes in it, listing everything she had heard Nicky talk about, and everything his muscle bound goon had told her. Nicky's guy had been very forthcoming after she started sleeping with him. He told her about Ligrano, the drugs, the missing money and the dead dealers. He gave up places and people and dates and if he had half a brain, he could have come up with some good conclusions himself.

After they came home from the party at the Hay Adams, Shannon had purposely started an argument with Nicky. She knew how to push his buttons and when she threw her affair with his henchman in his face, Nicky lost it and hit her more than once. She was surprised at how brutal he could be, but it was worth it, she needed an excuse to get the FBI agent to help her, and she needed time and an alibi.

She had the foresight to pack a small bag with some necessities, buy three pre-loaded cell phones and tap out the limit on Villareal's account with her ATM card. One way or another, she was determined to get as far away from Baltimore as she could.

* * *

"They match. The second set of prints on Harold Gerber's abandoned car, and the weapon, belong to Tom Hascall. We've got the motive and the murder weapon, I think it's only a matter of time until he surfaces. That black and red Honda is too flashy not to be noticed, if he's still with it, we'll get him."

Booth and Brennan had returned to the Hoover Building after the FBI back up and local PD had been called in to secure and process the crime scene. Now, several hours later, sitting in his office, they were both worn out from the highs and lows of the case and the adrenaline of finding and losing their suspect. It was early evening and the sounds of her stomach rumbling reminded her she hadn't eaten since early that morning.

"Booth, we're close, Hascall doesn't appear to be someone with the skills to stay hidden indefinitely." Bones shifted uncomfortably in her chair, tired from the confinement of the case for the entire day.

"I agree. But I'm concerned about Ligrano finding him before we do. You know, he gave the agents sent to tail him the slip. They lost him as soon as he took off inside of Union Station." Booth ran his fingers through his hair and sighed "You're right, there isn't much more we can do here. How about I buy you dinner?"

"Mmmm, that's the best thing I've heard since this morning." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "How about take out and going back to my place? But first, I have to go to the Jeffersonian and check in. Besides, my car is there."

He was about to argue with her, but remembered, this was what she was. She was the brain trust that kept their partnership going and her dedication to what she believed in was as great as his. So instead, he nodded his head in agreement. "I'll drop you off and pick up the food and meet you in an hour."

She took his hand to help her out of the chair and when she stood up, she couldn't stop herself from taking a step toward him. Closing the space between them and feeling the heat, she stifled the urge to wrap her arms around his neck. She looked straight into his eyes and licked her lips. He groaned inwardly.

Booth leaned into her ever so slightly, his cheek barely brushed hers and he whispered in her ear, "Baby, I can't, not here, we're in my office." He struggled to moved away from her, but it was difficult, they were held together by some magnetic field.

"Yes, I know." There was a look of disappointment in her eyes, but she manged to smile at him "My place, later."

They gathered their coats and walked out of his office toward the elevators.

* * *

This wasn't what he had counted on, he was in a whole shitload of trouble and Tom Hascall didn't stop to think, because if he did, he'd start freaking out. He had ditched his bike and taken off on foot, too agitated to think about leaving the most expensive item he had ever owned behind a garage in a crummy neighborhood. He walked through alley ways, avoiding the main streets and entered a bar through the back door. No one in the dive bar could have known, they were sitting next to a man who had almost forty thousand dollars in cash in a backpack, next to his feet.

Tom threw back another shot of bourbon and sputtered as he choked it down. His hands shook as he picked up his pack and made his way into the bar's grimy bathroom. He shut the door, bolted it, leaned back against it, and took a deep breath of stale damp air. Inside of his pants pocket was a cell phone with prepaid minutes, he extracted it and scrolled through the menu until he got to the call log. The number he was searching for appeared and he pressed the button, it rang once, twice, three times and on the forth ring they picked up. "This is Tom, Tom Hascall" he uttered nervously.

There was a brief pause before the recipient on the other end answered. "Yeah, I'm glad you called me back."

Tom's voice quivered with anxiety. "Look, I didn't believe you before, but I believe you now, and if you still want to help me, I could fucking use it."

"Of course I want to help you, I told you I would."

"Okay, but they're after me, the cops, they know I took the money and they know I killed someone for it. Can you hide me? I'll give you some of the money, if you'll help me."

"Tell me where you are."

"I got no one else. If you screw me over, I'll kill myself, do you hear me?"

"I don't expect you to trust me, but if you called me, it's because you need me. Tell me where to meet you."

Tom shook with fear as he described a meeting place.


	13. Fortune Cookie

Warning, Contains Mature Sexual Content

* * *

13. Fortune Cookie

* * *

"Dr. Brennan, long time, no see." Cam greeted her with a big smile as Brennan walked into the Jeffersonian. "So, how is everything?"

"I've been out in the field with Agent Booth. It's been a particularly busy and trying day, is there something you need from me?"

"No, just making nice-nice, small talk, you know…" It took a few seconds to realize, she didn't.

Brennan gave her a vague look. She tried to appear as though she understood the term nice-nice and it's broader meaning in context with this situation. "Cam, I'm here to make sure I'm not neglecting any matters."

"Of course." She started to turn away, but then pivoted on her high heel. "Dr Brennan, it's none of my business, but are you and Agent Booth having difficulties?" She knew she shouldn't ask, but her curiosity had gotten the best of her.

"Difficulties? You're correct, it's none of your business, but I assume you're asking out of concern and not because you're being meddlesome and inappropriate." Feeling ill at ease was unusual for her and it made her snippy.

Cam looked surprised, could Dr. Brennen be more abrupt then usual? "Certainly, I mean the concern part… not the other. I only ask because we've noticed some behavior changes between the two of you." She knew she should let it go, but instead she followed her into her office.

"Behavior changes? I don't know what that means." Brennan's standard answer rang insincere as visions of the storage closet popped into her head.

"We are all concerned for you and Agent Booth. None of us want to see your working relationship hampered by your feelings." Cam crossed her arms in front of her, waiting to be chastised.

"Hampered by our feelings?" Brennan felt defensive. "I would like to put your mind at ease. We are not and will not let our feelings hamper our working relationship."

Cam took a turn at feeling awkward. "I apologize for overstepping my boundaries, but as you mentioned before, I ask out of concern for you, and Seeley, as he is a longtime friend."

Brennan felt a very slight twinge, it was something she saw in others on a regular bases, but rarely recognized in herself. Jealousy. "Do you have an issue with either Agent Booth or I?"

"An issue?" It was Cam's turn to feel misunderstood. "I can assure you, it has nothing to do with any personal feelings I might have for Agent Booth, or you."

"Personal feelings… for me?" Brennan furrowed her brow.

Cam knew somewhere along the way, she and Temperance Brennan were nowhere near being on the same page, or universe, for that matter. "Dr. Brennan, let me apologize. I have entered into territory that is none of my business and in the process I have made us both very uncomfortable."

"No apologies necessary. As you stated before, your personal feelings for me have caused you concern. I am quite flattered by this, but you should know, I am heterosexual." She sat down at her desk and opened the lid to her computer.

Cam stared at her. "I think you've misunder..." she stopped in mid-sentence and stood still, knowing any further conversation could only make things worse. "Thank you... for being so... clear." She walked away shaking her head and muttering to herself "...for God's sake, you walked right into that one."

* * *

It wasn't exactly stealing since he knew the woman who owned it, he had every intention of giving it back, but Victor was feeling desperate and needed the wheels. He'd give her some money later, the thought made him pound the steering wheel in frustration. Money. His cell phone rang and he picked it up off the passenger seat - UNKNOWN CALLER.

He almost tossed it back on the seat, but on the fourth ring, answered it. "Who the hell is this?"

"Victor, don't hang up. I've got some information you want."

He swerved slightly, surprised to hear an unfamiliar male voice. "Who the hell are you?" Victor's voice was thick with anger. "What is this? I'm hanging up!"

"No! Listen to me, I know where the money is."

Victor pulled over to the curb and put the car in park, he was more than a little interested in what this call was about. "Are you trying to smoke me? Tell me who you are, otherwise I'm gone!" He was bluffing, but it was the only reasonable statement he could think of.

"The owner of the Bridge Street Motel has it."

"I figured that one out, I went by his place, and it was crawling with cops. How do you know he didn't get picked up. How do I know your not trying to use me in some twisted way?"

"You don't."

"So what? Are you going to tell me where it is?" Ligrano was wary but had few other options.

"Keep your phone close. I'll text you the location tomorrow." The abrupt chime of the phone call ending echoed in his ear. Victor looked and felt dumbfounded.

The unknown caller, a gangly looking college student with unkept hair handed the phone back to it's owner. "I really don't want to know what that was about." He plucked the twenty dollar bill offered to him and walked away without looking back.

* * *

Her coffee table was covered with an array of empty take out containers, crumpled napkins and half drunk bottles of beer. She set her empty plate and chopsticks down and sat back on the couch contentedly.

Reaching for his beer, he looked pleased with himself as he polished the contents off, then sighed with satisfaction.

"I have noticed how food elevates your mood. The way to a man's head is through his stomach, right?" Her tone was in jest.

"Heart... Bones, not head... heart." He tapped his chest with a closed fist and smirked at her attempt at humor.

Her face took on a serious look. "Booth, this case we are on has very little to do with forensics or answers that the Jeffersonian can provide. It has more to do with old fashioned police work, which is what you are about. I feel quite ineffective." There was a hint of defeat in her voice.

"Wait one second here... It's the partnership that solves these crimes, you contribute more than hard science and facts. I love this job and can't imagine doing anything else, but you've helped me become a better cop. I look at crime scenes differently and at details... details, you've taught me to look for them, they talk to you, and sometimes I hear them too. The Bureau would have separated us a long time ago if it weren't working. So don't tell me you feel ineffective, tell me what I need to do to close this case."

Bones was really touched by his words. "I've wanted to believe what you say is true, I just need to hear it."

He smiled at her and his eyes started to twinkle. "Hey, are you ready for your fortune cookie?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "The only legitimate fortune I am aware of is the one that the Internal Revenue Service is interested in, and not one created by an American marketing firm, where gross generalizations are printed on a little strips of paper, and folded up into a sugar wafer."

"I don't know about that. The best advice and insights I ever got was from Sid's restaurant in a little cookie." He rummaged around the table and found the paper bakery bag with four fortune cookies. Leaning back on her sofa he grinned at her suggestively.

Bones did her best to look arrogant, but she was no match for Booth's boyish charm. He held the bag out to her, his expression, a mixture of frivolity with a dash of hope thrown in.

"Okay Baby, let's see it." He challenged her.

Reaching into the bag, she extracted the fortune cookie, and breaking it in half, she pulled the little peace of paper out. What she read made her laugh out loud. "This one was definitely meant for you!" She passed the little strip of paper to him.

"You have an unusual equipment for success, use it properly"

Booth chuckled "Only you would know." He chose a cookie out of the bag, broke it open, popped half of it into his mouth and picked out the fortune. A huge smile spread across his face and he handed it to Bones. "And it appears I got yours." He gave her the little slip of paper, and devoured the other half of the cookie.

"Confucius say you have heart as big as Texas"

She gave him that look, her lips pressed together not in a frown or smile, but something uniquely Bones. She loved his ability to pull her into these moments. "I get one more, right?" She carefully selected one and extracted the fortune. Bones thought it impossible that her feelings could be interpreted through the little piece of paper, but reading the short phrase changed her mind. "This one is for me." She handed it to Booth.

He read the small words that held a big meaning, his dark brown eyes bore into her and her eyes glimmered back.

"The one you love is closer than you think."

"Okay, you get the last one." Bones handed the bag to Booth and he took the cookie from it and snapped it open.

He read the fortune and looked thoughtful. "I told you, the fortune cookie never fails."

Booth put the little slip of paper on the table. He reached for her, embracing her affectionately, and the heat between them became undeniably hot in temperature and intent. He kissed her as if she were fragile and gently leaned her backwards until she sank down into the couch. "Come on Baby" he murmured, as his kisses became more urgent.

The living room floor soon mimicked the confusion on the coffee table as items of clothing were tossed haphazardly about. Her blouse, his shirt, her slacks, his trousers and so on. Propped up on his forearms he kissed her over and over again, she responded by insisting on more, her breathing listless. His lips found there way down her throat and across her collarbone and down to her breasts where he captured one of her rose colored nipples between his lips tugging on it and then manipulating it with his tongue until she writhed with pleasure. He used his thumb and forefinger and pinched the other rigid nub between them with just enough pressure, that it sent an ache of desire through her.

"How do you know to do that?" Her voice straining with passion, parting her legs, and welcoming him between them.

He could hear her sigh with pleasure and when he reached down with his fingers, she was warm, wet, luscious and ready. He lifted and rotated his hips about and prodded her, teasing and proving to her that he was hard, hot and also ready. She writhed under him and wrapped her legs around his torso, trapping him and forcing him to hit his his mark, sliding into her causing them both to struggle for air.

"You make me crazy" he stammered "Tell me what you want?"

"Show me what it is... what I want." She whispered back.

He made love to her slowly and deliberately, feeling the exquisite resistance as her muscles constricted around him. Soon he heard the little sounds from her that he had only recently discovered, it excited him and compelled him to crash into her faster... and harder.

"Oh my God... don't stop... " She panted and released her legs from around him, feeling him drive in and out of her. It took only a minute before she lost it. He felt her body tense and tremble and buck under his, as they slammed into each other in a frenzy of movement. Her orgasm fueled his, and he followed her, spinning out of control and spilling himself in her.

It took minutes before they felt control returning to their limbs and breathing, and thoughts. He rolled toward the back of the couch, resting on his side. She reached over him and dragged the blanket hanging on the back of the couch onto them, capturing the heat of their fresh love-making under it.

"I have always been skeptical of the phenomena known as spontaneous human combustion, but I feel we have come close to proving it's existence." She knew the endorphins that coursed through her system were to blame for her euphoria.

"That was by far, the very best Chinese take out I've ever had." He grumbled.

She lay content next to his solid frame, his heavy breathing indicating he was dozing. She reached for the little slip of paper he had placed on the table, read it, and felt her heart might burst into a million pieces.

"In the end there are three things that last: faith, hope and love; and the greatest of these is love."


	14. Greed and Fear

14. Greed and Fear

* * *

He ditched his regulation FBI suit and settled on jeans, t-shirt and a leather jacket. Before leaving his apartment, he made sure his ID was securely in his pocket, his weapon in its shoulder harness. He juggled with the freshly toasted pop-tarts and captured them in a napkin. Once outside, he swung himself into his car where Bones had patiently been waiting.

"Breakfast." He handed her a pop-tart and ate his in three bites.

She took the crumbly rectangle from him "We should have set the alarm, I could have made an omelet with the leftover Chinese food." She bit into the processed pastry and made a face. "You know I don't like my fruit cooked."

"These are a food staple with us single guys. I'll buy you lunch at the diner later." He started the car up and turned toward her "You know, you could have come up to the apartment and waited."

"I know, but I thought it best to avoid the temptation of watching you shower and change. We're late enough as it is."

He laughed, a little embarrassed by her confession, but a lot more embarrassed by how her statement affected him. He pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic, taking turns, looking at her and the street. "How long do you think we can keep this up?"

Bones pondered the question for only a second. "If you're referring to our partnership, our sex life or the deception we find ourselves in, than two of them I feel we can continue indefinitely, the third, I'm not sure of."

"I hope you're thinking of the same two I am, the ones we are especially good at. The third one, it's bound to come back to haunt us. Now the question is, how long do we keep up the charade?"

"Based on the information on hand, the individuals involved and what I know about them, I say Angela will be the first to figure it out." She replied confidently.

"Yeah? My money's on Hodgins." Booth countered.

"Hodgins? Why would you think he would even care about our relationship?" Bones sounded exasperated at the very idea.

"Angela's already tried to get you to 'fess up, Cam isn't going to touch it with a ten foot pole, and Zack is clueless. Hodgins has been there, he knows what it's like." There was a tiny trace of sympathy in Booth's voice.

"Cam has already confronted me and I adeptly avoided her question." A funny look appeared on her face. "After thinking about it, I believe she might be interested in a menage a trois." She was quite pleased, this was a side of herself she hadn't known existed.

He crossed the center line at the remark. "What!? I know Cam, she's not into that kind of stuff."

"If you mean a free spirited sexual experience involving three attractive and consenting adults, I think you'd be surprised." She wasn't the least bit interested in sharing Booth with Cam, but teasing him was fun. Besides, she had yanked Cam's cord... or was that chain... and enjoyed it immensely.

"Isn't that more along Angela's lifestyle?" Booth cringed at the thought of Cam and Bones, it just wasn't right, but Angela...

"Booth! Angela's like a sister to me, it would be incestuous, banish the thought!" She tried to sound stern as she stifled her laughter.

"It is a fantasy, among boys and men in general, to bed two women at once, but I've only began bedding one, and two would be one too many." They both laughed as he pulled into the Jeffersonian parking lot.

There was work to be done.

* * *

The only inhabitants of the empty warehouse were rats that darted around the discarded wood pallets and in and out of the cracks and crevices along the bottom of the walls. Large balloon shaped graffiti covered the interior, marking the territory of disgruntled and disenfranchised youth. Their piles of cheap booze bottles and garbage were strewn about.

Twenty years ago, the Port of Baltimore had thrived and this building along with the three others next to it had been storage and transfer facilities for goods going out of the country. A lot had changed since then, and today the Port was terminally ill and the buildings had remained empty and abandoned for over a decade.

Tom Hascall spent a very tense and uncomfortable night trying to sleep on a dirty couch in one of the unused warehouse offices. His only possessions were the clothes he wore and the backpack filled with money. His thin jacket did little to keep the damp air at bay, but his temperature sensors had become numb while his auditory sensors had heightened. Every crackle, every drip, and every rustle echoed in his ears and his head darted nervously about. Fearful of being picked up by the police, the Feds or the people he ripped off, he agreed to hide out in the vacant warehouse. The kindness of strangers doesn't exist when you've stolen their money, and he found himself rocking back and forth, hugging his backpack like an errant child might hold a stuffed animal.

Outside, the sun hid behind a grouping of gray clouds, and the dim light cast a gray sheen on the warehouse and on Victor Ligrano. He approached the building carefully, the number on the door matched the text message he had received and it swung open when he pressed his hand against it. The air was acrid and damp inside and added to his paranoia as he moved slowly through the building.

"Who the fuck are you?" Ligrano yelled, as Hascall appeared out of nowhere, clutching his backpack.

"Who sent you?" Hascall choked out the words. "Are you here to help me?"

Ligrano recognized the man as the motel manager and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw his frightened look. "Give me the God Damn backpack or I'll beat the crap out of you."

He saw the cold calculating look on Ligrano's face as he came closer. A picture emerged in his head and he saw himself on the ground, rolled up into a ball, being kicked in his back and stomach. He held the backpack even closer to his body.

Ligrano was incensed, angry that the money he had desperately been searching for was only steps away in the arms of this intruder.

"No. Please." Hascall whimpered, as he imagined the money snatched away from him.

His cowardice gave Ligrano courage. "I'll kill you with my bare hands if you don't give me the God Damn pack."

Hascall shut his eyes and saw himself laying on the warehouse floor, rats crawling on him and nibbling at his flesh. The vision made him reach for the pistol that had been hidden in the side pocket of the pack.

"I got a gun, stay back. I already killed someone…" he cried out.

The threat bounced off of Ligrano as he looked at the slightly built man who was cowering with fear. He squeezed his hand and the switchblade that had gone unnoticed, zipped open. He waved it in front of him.

The sight of the knife blade shouted _'shoot him!'_ in Hascall's head. He dropped the backpack, and with an unsteady hand he pointed the gun at Ligrano and fired.

His aim was off and the bullet hit Ligrano in the shoulder. He reacted as if he had been injected with a dose of adrenaline directly into an artery and he threw the knife as hard as he could.

Hascall looked stunned to see the knife embedded in his chest. His arms flailed out to his sides but before he fell back, he pulled the trigger again and the wild shot, incredibly hit Ligrano in the head.

Ligrano lay crumpled like a rag doll on the cold cement floor. His shocked expression was frozen on his face. Hascall lay next to him, a pool of blood growing around him as he bled out. He felt his life leaving him at the same time he felt the backpack slide away from his body.

Inside, the rats scattered in every direction and outside, the only witnesses were perched on the cornice of the building. The sound of gunshots sent the birds in flight, they circled the sky and eventually settled back on the wire above the building. They watched, as the figure of a person with a backpack slung over one shoulder, came out of the building, tossing a gas can back and forth, while fuel splashed on the ground.

A single wooden match was all it took to ignite the gasoline. The flames raced into the building and across the floor, bursting into a firestorm and engulfing the two bodies and the wooden pallets that had been dragged next to them.

* * *

Bones knelt over the charred remains and with a gloved hand she pulled a knife out of one of the victims. "This is most likely cause of death. The wound was inflicted prior to the fire." She looked up at Booth, wondering what scenarios he would come up with, before bagging the switchblade.

"Let's get the remains back to the Jeffersonian." Booth ordered, trying to make sense of the scene. They had been called in after the first responders found the two charred and unrecognizable corpses. The interior of the warehouse was gutted by the fire and water dripped and puddled around the victims.

"This isn't some random event, preliminary findings show this as arson. I don't think it's a coincidence the building is owned by Nicholas Villareal, and my guess is, we aren't looking at two transients." He looked disgusted and shook his head.

"This gun appears to be the weapon that shot and killed this victim." She pointed to the blackened skull and a hole left from a bullet, she lifted the revolver gingerly and placed it into an evidence bag. "You believe one of these victims is Tom Hascall?"

He shrugged. "I can only speculate, but this much I do know, a gunshot wound to the head and a switchblade in your heart could be the by product of an argument. Arson and setting fire to the bodies is not. That was premeditated."

"If any evidence has been left behind, we'll find it." Bones wanted to be optimistic for Booth's sake, however, she knew doubt was the logical conclusion.

* * *

"Wait for me" she instructed the cab driver after they arrived at the Silver Springs Days Inn. She went to the room at the motel and knocked on the door. A woman in her early thirties answered. "Hey there, Megan" she winked at her and took an envelope full of cash that was handed to her. She counted out fifteen one hundred dollar bills, and in return gave her a manila envelope.

"This was just the change I needed." Shannon Meyers thanked the woman and returned to the cab.

"Dulles airport please." Once she settled herself in the back seat, she opened the envelope and found a California driver's license, a passport, a social security card and a birth certificate for Megan Miller. The photos looked good, the make-up had covered up the bruises on her face. She tucked the driver's license into her wallet and replaced the other documents in the envelope and zipped it into the carry on bag that sat next to her. She took her little wire bound notebook out and carefully noted the fifteen hundred dollar expense for her new identity. She had a running total going. One hundred sixty for haircut and color, three hundred for tortoise rimmed prescription glasses, one hundred for a carry on suitcase with a matching shoulder bag, and a thousand to the man she had hired to retrieve the backpack and set the building on fire.

Shannon paid and tipped the cab driver and went into the air terminal where she paid cash for a one-way nonstop ticket to San Francisco. She made it through the security checkpoint and headed to the ladies room, where she entered a stall, took her cell phone apart and flushed the sim card down the toilet. She left the restroom and went to the McDonald's where she bought a burger, fries and coke. She ate about half of it and discreetly wiped the disassembled cell phone clean and tucked it into the leftover burger, and then placed it back in the bag and threw it in the trash on the way to her gate.

Shannon was now Megan Miller and ready to start her new life. She sat in a chair and thought about the last four days. She had been very careful and as each day passed, she felt a little more confident that her plans and goals might actually come true. In truth she would always be haunted by knowing she caused the death of Victor Ligrano and Tom Hascall, but she took solace in knowing she didn't pull the trigger, throw the knife or light the match.

Megan heard the attendant call for boarding and joined the gathering line. She felt a prickle of apprehension, as though she was being watched and felt herself grow clammy and pale as she saw two armed policemen walk towards her. They suddenly broke into a run and ran past her, apprehending a middle-aged man who tried to round a corner. He protested his innocence while being led away.

"Poor son-of-a-bitch, I wonder what he got caught doing..." the man in front of her remarked.

Megan nodded her head "People shouldn't try to get away with murder, ya know?" She handed the gate attendant her boarding pass and I.D. and in less than a minute she was walking down the ramp toward the airplane.


	15. Justice

15. Justice

* * *

Anthropologically speaking, it's a social release from the monotony of a typical work day, with the added bonus of four dollar well drinks. Noisy and crowded, the pairings here are always random. Some choose to anchor themselves to a spot, others join the constant shuffle to claim an open space during the late afternoon ritual known as Happy Hour.

Booth sat at the bar with a Captain and Coke in hand. He wasn't feeling particularly generous when Hodgins purposely sought out the bar stool next to him.

"Hey man, it's been a less than satisfying week in the world of slime and grime, which tells me your week has been worse than mine." He said amicably.

"Yeah, well, they can't all be winners." Booth's attitude was dour. A week had gone by since they had discovered and subsequently identified the bodies in the warehouse. Victor Ligrano's prints were on the switchblade that killed Tom Hascall and Hascall's prints were on the gun found at the scene. He might have laughed at the deaths of these two idiots, but the loss of two additional lives was not the outcome he wanted to see.

Hodgins rattled his drink. "You can't pin anything on the owner of the building?"

"Nicholas Villareal has an alibi and not enough insurance to cover his destroyed building. Unless you can find some molecule that incriminates him, he's off the hook." Booth took another sip from his drink and eyed the bug doctor cautiously, he read people well enough to know there was more coming.

"So what's going on with you and Dr. B? Angela tells me she won't talk about it, so it must be serious. Like I know it's none of my business, but I might be able to help, after all I have first hand knowledge on professional working relationships."

Booth stiffened and glared at him. He leaned toward the entomologist and looked at him straight in the eye "If I tell you, I'll have to kill you."

The look on Hodgins face made the corny remark worth it.

* * *

"This case we've been on, it's going nowhere. What's next?" Angela sipped on her martini.

Brennan looked disheartened "Five people dead for fifty thousand dollars, it's really ridiculous." She sighed. "Booth says Sully had a side to him that none of us saw, a place where he kept his demons. Not that I believe in demons, but I understand the metaphor."

"Honey, he's absolutely right. It's more than unfortunate, but he wasn't asking for help, he just wanted out of this screwed up life he created for himself." She looked at Brennan sympathetically. "And the money?"

Brennan shook her head. "Nothing."

Angela bumped her shoulder against hers. "I know you said you didn't want to talk about your relationship with Booth, just tell me that everything is all right."

Brennan couldn't deny her friend an honest answer. She had always gone to her, sharing stories or asking for advice when it came to men. They never minced words over intent or technique, but she wasn't willing to let her relationship with Booth become an anecdote in her personal life, at least not yet. "It's important we continue an effective and professional work relationship. So the answer to your question is, everything is fine."

"Sweetie, if you weren't my closest non-sexually involved with friend, I might be offended that you won't come clean with me, but I respect you're right to privacy and won't press you for details."

Brennan gave Angela a look that only close girlfriends could decipher. "I promise you'll be the first to know."

"Okay, I'll accept that for now, but when you're ready, I want all the gory details." She ate the olive out of her drink.

"I can assure you, they aren't gory, perhaps messy, but not gory."

* * *

Cam sat down on the bar stool that Hodgins had vacated and motioned to the bartender for a drink. "You closing the book on this case?"

Booth got a pained look on his face. "It's ended up being a bunch of clueless amateurs killing each other and I got nothing on the money. No new leads whatsoever."

"What about Villareal's girlfriend, you thought she had an ulterior motive, didn't you?"

"I did, but she's come up clean too. She had a tight alibi, no cell phone records, nothing to trace. She left the women's shelter and told her caseworker that she was going to make a fresh start. There was no reason to detain her."

"Smart girl." Cam threw back her shot glass and chased it with a glass of soda water.

"You and Dr. Brennan have become the number one topic at the rumor mill. What gives?" Cam had gotten in Booth's face more than once and knew what she could get away with.

He looked at her sideways, Cam was a good friend, but she led the Squints and they worked together, in this instance it trumped their friendship. "We got it handled."

She thought better of pressing the issue, and shrugged in response.

Booth couldn't help himself. "So Cam, what happened between you and Bones? She mentioned something weird had come up?"

"Seeley, I did not come on to her! If I was going to pick someone to make a move on, I can guarantee, it wouldn't be her!" She acted and sounded defensive.

Booth laughed out loud. "Look Camille, I told her as much. You know... I pointed out that Angela was more your type."

Cam's outrage turned to amusement when she saw Booth's expression. "Okay, okay, it's time for me to sign up for internet dating. I definitely need to find a bigger pond." She motioned for the bartender for a refill.

* * *

"Dr. Brennan?"

"Yes Zach, what is it?" Their roles were firmly entrenched, making his attempt at small talk seem out of place.

"If you and Agent Booth cease to work with each other, what will happen to the rest of us?" He stood in front of her with a concerned look.

She was surprised by his question. "What would make you think that Booth and I will end our working relationship?"

"Remember the book I read about body language and the pat on the back opposed to the bump of a fist? It also talked about the lack of eye contact, purposely keeping distance between each other, crossed arms and tense posture... I have recognized these attributes in you and Agent Booth. It seems problematic, a fissure in your bond as partners."

Brennan had a moment of clarity and patted Zach's hand reassuringly. "Agent Booth and I are committed to working together. You don't have to be concerned. Even if we were to end our partnership, I wouldn't leave the Jeffersonian and you would still be my assistant."

"I am relieved to hear that." He did his best to look relaxed. "It would be a shame to interfere with beautiful music and disrupt the muscle of admiration you share with Agent Booth."

"Zach, have you been talking with Angela and Hodgins again?"

* * *

He left the bar and she followed him out a few minutes later. She found him halfway down the block, leaning against his car. With his tie loosened, his collar unbuttoned, he looked incredibly sexy.

"You know what I hope?" He said to her as she approached him.

"What?"

"That the money we've been chasing for the last two weeks ends up doing someone some good."

Bones found herself leaning against the car next to him. "It is optimistic of you to think that, but I agree, I'd like to believe it is helping someone out."

He took a step and turned to face her. "I'm turning the case over to Charlie, it'll stay an open investigation, but with nothing to drive it, it won't go anyplace unless something new develops."

His close proximity wasn't something she could ignore and although she knew it breached their pact of discretion, she reached out and hooked her fingers in his belt loops and pulled him toward her.

"It is unfortunate." She caught her breath when she felt his leg pressed between hers and his hands on her waist, his body bearing down on her. "But, I know you believe justice exists" she whispered.

"Justice comes in many forms." He murmured the words in her ear as she leaned further back against the car. His lips nipped at her ear lobe and then inched their way down her neck and back towards her mouth.

"We should go." She whispered back to him, between his kisses. She could smell the rum on his breath mixed with the business of his day and thought how delicious these pheromones were. She wrapped her arms around his neck, preventing him from leaving her.

"Yeah, we should" Booth whispered to her before devouring her lips and feeling his body undulate against hers. He couldn't stop, knowing she felt the same sparks of desire that he did, goaded him on.

The street lamp cast a faint spotlight on the cop and scientist. Locked in a passionate embrace, their lips, their legs and their bodies fitting seamlessly together. Her arms encircling his neck, his one arm around her waist, his other hand in her hair, he flattened her against the car, kissing her with a frantic appetite. She strained to return the gesture, both of them oblivious to the world around them.

It was a sight to behold, as was the sight of Cam, Hodgins, Angela and Zach standing huddled together on the sidewalk. Their eyes wide, and not surprisingly, all four totally speechless.

~ End

* * *

Author's note:

A couple of years after I originally posted this story, there are still a few readers out there. I decided that it was time to do some editing. I hope it reads a tad bit better and the story makes more sense.

I truly appreciate the positive feedback. I'm a fan of Bones mostly of the early seasons and I hope it shows.

Thanks again!

Mochi


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